■ 


FROM   THE   LIBRARY   OF 

REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY   OF 

PRINCETON   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY 

27/ £ 


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Λλ,''  I 


SONGS  OF  PRAISE 


φ&  OF  PR/^n. 
*NOV   !  3  * 

•I  SFW^S^ 


POEMS  OF  DEVOTION 


IN   THE    CHRISTIAN   CENTURIES. 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION 

By     HENRY     COP  PEE, 

PROFESSOR    OP    ENGLISH     LIItRAIfUK     IN     TI1K     INI  VKHS1TY     OK     PENNSYLVANIA. 


ELK< ;  Λ  Ν  Τ  L  Υ  ELLUST  RATED 

WITH    SIXTY    STEEL    ENGRAVINGS    EXECUTED    IN    THE    FIRST    STYLE    OF    THE    ART. 


PHILADELPH1  \: 
PUBLISHED  BY   Κ    II.  1UTLEB  λ  CO. 

1  3i 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1865,  by 

E.    H.    BDTLER    &    CO., 

in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


CONTENTS. 


ΡΑβΙ 

Introduction     ....                  .  Editor Β 

Pilgrims  of  Jesus         .        ...  St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium  21 

Stars  of  τπε  Morning     ...  St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium        .  23 

Evening  Hymn St.  Anatolius                .  _'l 

God  of  God,  Light  of  Light  .  St.  Anatolius  .  20 

Christmas-Tide St.  Anatolius        ...  28 

St.  Stephen's  Day Anonymous     ....  30 

Γλι.μ  Sunday St.  Andrew  of  Crete     .         .  33 

Whence  Shall  My  Tears  Begin?  .        .  St.  Andrew  of  Crete        .        .  35 

The  Great  Fast St.  Andrew  of  Crete     .  37 

Chbibtot  Anf.sti St.  John  Damascene         .         .  39 

Stand  on  the  Watch-Tower        .  St.  John  Damascene  41 

Let  Us  Rise  in  Early  Morning  St.  John  Damascene  43 

The  Furnace St.  John  Damascene     .  44 

Jerusalem St.  John  Damascene  45 

Tin:  Dawn  is  Sprinkling  Anonymous         ...  47 

For  All  Saints St.  John  Damascene                 .  49 

Fix  Me  Firmly St.  John  Damascene     .  50 

The  Dark  Mystery  .  St.  John  Damascene 

God  Comes     ......  St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium  53 

Christmas-Day St.  Cosmos      .... 

Tnr  Express  Image      .        ...  St.  Cosmos  ....  56 

The  God-Man St.  Cosmos       ....  58 

Αλτ  Thou  Weary?        ....  St.  Stephen  the  Sabitc  .  60 

-ED  Forever  .St.  Cosmos      .... 

Oh,  Wondrous  Mystery  St.  Cosmos  .... 

That   Fearful  Day  ....  St.  Theodore  of  ' 

Adam's  Complaint it.  Thtophama  66 

:t 


CONTENTS. 


Transfiguration  .... 
Ο  Faithful  Cross    . 
Burial  of  the  Dead    . 
Dread  Framer  of  the  Earth 

Sunday  

The  Passion 

Ο  Blest  Creator 

Now  with  the  Rising  Golden  Morn 

His  Sacred  Feet 

Hymn  for  Confirmation 

Sunday  Morning  .... 

The  Ascension 

Mary  Magdalen  .... 
Jerusalem  the  Golden    . 
Prayer  of  the  Contrite  Sinner 

Rock  of  Ages 

St.  Francis  Xavier      . 

In  Memoriam 

The  Singers 

Sleep         

The  Soul-Dirge     .... 
Jairus'  Daughter     .... 
Hymn  for  All  Nations 

Litany  Hymn 

God's-Acre     ..... 
Christmas  Even       .... 
Echoes  of  Angels'  Songs     . 
The  Flowers  of  God 

Royal  Banners     

Ο  Life,  Ο  Death 

Resignation 

Have  Mercy 

Jerusalem     

The  God  of  Love     .... 

Stajjat  Mater  Dolorosa 

λ  Wreath 


St.  Cosmos 

Anonymous 

Anonymous     ■ 

Caswell 

Caswell 

Caswell 

Caswell  . 

Caswell 

Caswell  . 

Brydges 

Caswell  . 

Faber 

Callanan 

Anonymous 

Anonymous     . 

Toplady 

Brydges . 

Coppee 

Longfellow 

Mrs.  Browning    . 

A.  Cleveland  Coxe 

Willis 

Tupper  . 

Anonymous 

Longfellow 

Coppee 

Coppee    ■ 

Lyons 

Anonymous     . 

Trench 

Longfellow 

Trench 

Breviary 

Herbert 

Anonymous     . 

Herbert 


PAGE 

68 

70 

73 

77 

79 

82 

83 

85 

86 

87 

88 

90 

93 

94 

96 

98 

102 

103 

104 

106 

109 

112 

117 

118 

120 

121 

123 

124 

126 

127 

128 

131 

132 

134 

136 

137 


CONTENTS. 


Tiie  Silent  Towek        ....  Hawker. 

Strive Winkler 

Sunday Herbert  . 

Audi,  Tellus,  Audi  ....  Washburn  . 

The  Curate G  . 

Castles Harvey 

God  in  Nature GerKardt 

Jam  Mcesta  Quiesce  Querela         .        .  Washburn  . 

The  Cross St.  Methodius 

God's  Word  ....  Heber 

To  Mont  Blanc     .        .  .        .  Coleridge 

Midnight  Hymn Hannah  More 

Traveller's  Evening  Sonc;  .        .        .  Hemans 

The  Odor Herbert 

jEterne  Rerum  Conditor     .  .  Anonymous    . 

Love  of  Jesus C.  C.  Cox    . 

Tee  Traveller's  Return     .         .         .  Hem' 

Daily  Bread    ......  Anonymous 

Nothing  Fair  on  Earth      .        .        .  Angelus 

Onward Tersteegen   . 

Great  Faith Eeble 

Catechism  ....  .  Keblc  . 

My  Father's  at  the  Helm  .        .  Anonymous    . 

Abide  with  Me Lytc   . 

Cur  MtrSDUB  Militat?  .         .         .  Washburn 

Bitter  Repentance  ....  Keble . 

A  Trie  Hymn Herbert . 

Love  of  God C.  C.  Cox    . 

What  Went  Ye  Out  to  See?      .  Keble 

,  and  Bow      ....  Keble . 

Missionary  Hymn         .        .        .  Heber 

EB  Even  .  ...  Franck 

AnvF.NT  SrniDAT Keblc 

Τπε  Purification     ....  KebU  ■ 

WORK      .......  Mrs.  Browning 

Star  and  Sceptre Κ  hie  ■ 


L38 

142 
Ml 
117 
L48 
L51 
152 
L56 
158 
160 
162 
166 
168 
171 
L72 
1 75 
17'; 
178 
180 
182 
186 
189 
192 
193 
196 
200 
203 
204 
21 15 

.,|  2 
214 
215 


6 

CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Whitsunday  .... 

Keble     .... 

.     226 

Joy  in  Heaven 

Heber          . 

228 

The  Lilies    .... 

Keble      .... 

.     230 

St.  Stephen 

Heber          .... 

233 

Prayer  at  the  Pole    . 

Sallie  Bridges 

234 

St.  Agnes'  Eve 

Tennyson     .         .         .         . 

237 

Praise 

Anonymous     ■ 

.     239 

The  Holy  Sepulchre 

Heber          .... 

240 

Parvum  Quando  Cerno  Deum 

Washburn 

.     244 

Christ  Risen    .        .        .      *. 

Anonymous 

245 

The  Reapers'  Return  Home 

Sallie  Bridges 

.     246 

The  Return  Home  . 

■     St  Joseph  of  the  Studium     . 

249 

Lord,  What  a  Change 

Trench    .... 

.     251 

Altitudo,  Quid  Hic  Jaces?     . 

Washburn  .... 

252 

The  Prodigal 

Trench    .... 

.     254 

Lucis  Largitor  Splendide 

Washburn  .... 

256 

Nature  and  Grace 

Keble     .... 

.     258 

Recordare  Sanct^e  Crucis 

Washburn  .... 

261 

All  Angels  .... 

Washburn 

.     263 

Κ  a-  "  The.  Singers,"  "  God's  Acre,"  and  "Resignation,"  by  Professor  Longfellow,  are  published  in 
lame  with  the  consent  of  Messes.  Ticknor  &  Fields. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


8CTBJEOT 

ARTIST 

Title-Page 

Whitechurch 

Pilgrims  of  Jesus    .... 

Franklin 

Evening  Hymn     .... 

Turner    . 

mas  Tide         .... 

.     Schmolzi 

Palm  Suhday        .... 

Robert»  . 

The  Great  Fast       .... 

Schmohr 

Chbistos  Anesti   .... 

Schmoke 

Stabs  on  the  Watch-Tower  . 

.     Schuessele    . 

Jerusalem 

Hall 

Those  Eternal  Bowers  . 

Hamilton    ■ 

God  Comes     

Schuessele 

Art  Thou  Weary?  .        .        .         . 

Franklin 

That  Fearful  Day 

Turner   . 

Bubiax  of  the  Dead 

■     Schmolze 

Burial  of  the  Dead    . 

Schmolze 

Dp.ead  Framer  of  the  Earth 

Schmolze 

Suitday 

Schmolze 

PAUL  and  Silas        .         .         .         . 

.     Schuessele    . 

Sunday  Morning  .... 

Schmolze 

Prayer  of  the  Contrite 

.     Schmolze 

St.  Francis  Xavier 

Schmolze 

The  Singers 

.     Schmolze 

Portrait  of  Mrs.  Browning 

Bead 

Jaibus'  Daughter    .... 

Schuessele 

God's-Acre 

Schmolze 

The  Flowers  of  God 

Schmolze 

PAOE 

1 
21 
25 
20 
34 
38 
40 
12 
46 
48 
54 
60 
65 
71 
76 
78 
80 
34 
88 

100 
104 
106 
112 
ISO 
124 
L2S 


8  -  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

SUBJECT  ARTIST 

The  God  of  Love         ....  Schmoke 

Silent  Tower  ......  Schmolze 

Silent  Tower Schmolze 

Sunday      .......  Schmolze 

The  Curate Schmolze 

Castles     .......  Devereux 

God  in  Nature Schmolze 

The  Cross Warren 

God's  Word  ......  Devereux 

Mont  Blanc Schmolze 

Portrait  of  Hannah  More         .        .  Opie 

Portrait  of  Mrs.  Hemans       .         .         .  Fletcher 

Sterne  Rerum  Conditor     .         .         .  Schmolze 

Daily  Bread Schmolze 

Onward Schmolze 

Great  Faith Turner 

Catechism Schmolze 

Abide  with  Me Schmolze 

Cur  Mundus  Militat?  .         .         .  Schuessele 

Bitter  Repentance  ....  Schmolze 

What  Went  Ye  Out  to  See?      .         .  Turner  . 

Missionary  Hymn Schmolze 

Advent  Sunday Mall 

Work Schmolze 

The  Lilies Schmolze 

Prayer  at  the  Pole        ....  Devereux 

The  Holy  Sepulchre  ....  Roberts  . 

The  Reapers'  Return     ....  Schmolze 

The  Return  Home       ....  Turner   . 

Altitudo,  Quid  Hic  Jaces?     .         .         .  Franklin 

The  Prodigal Hall 

Lucis  Largitor  Splendide      .         .         .  Turner 

Portrait  of  John  Keble     .         .         .  Richmond 


PAGE 

135 
139 
141 
144 
148 
151 
153 
158 
160 
162 
166 
168 
174 
170 
182 
186 
190 
194 
196 
200 
207 
212 
217 
223 
232 
235 
241 
247 
250 
252 
254 
256 
258 


INTRODUCTION. 

"Without  intending  to  present  an  essay  on  Hymnology,  I 
desire  to  offer  a  few  explanatory  remarks  as  to  the  volume  now 
offered  to  the  public,  and  the  vast  field,  always  white  to  the 
harvest,  from  which  I  have  gleaned  my  little  sheaves. 

More  than  two  years  ago,  a  clerical  friend,  of  rare  culture 
and  delicate  taste, — who,  moreover,  always  delights  in  sharing 
newly-discovered  beauties  with  his  friends  and  fellow-scholars, — 
brought  to  me  a  copy  of  the  British  edition  of  Neale's  Hymns  of 
the  Eastern  Church.  We  read  it  through  with  great  delight 
in  one  happy  evening.  I  had  known  Dr.  Neale  as  the  trans- 
lator and  collector  of  the  Latin  Mediaeval  Hymns,  but  I  had 
not  before  seen  this  little  book ;  and  although,  doubtless,  it 
is  known  to  many  students  of  hymnology,  I  found,  in  showing 
them  to  numerous  friends,  that  no  one  had  seen  them:  they 
not,  to  my  knowledge,  been  republished  in  America. 

Preceded  by  a  learned  introduction  on  Greek  Christian  poetry, 

the  hymns  are  chronologically  arranged,  and  a  shmt   account 

is  presented  of  each  author  and  his  age.     They  begin  with  the 

fifth  century,  represented  by  St.  Anafoliua     I  have  ι  the 

originals;  but  if  the  translations  do  them  DO  more  than  juel 

they  are  beautiful:   if,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  ti. 

vernacular  beauties  which  cannot  be  rendered  in  another  tongue, 

too  much  cannot  be  said  in  their  praii  oeidered  simply 

as  English  ρ  the  translations  admirable:  the  langn 

a 


10  INTRODUCTION. 

is  simple,  and  the  expression  concentrated.  The  original  rhythm 
is  as  far  as  possible  retained,  and  thus  to  the  energy  of  the  Greek 
is  added  the  pleasant  ramble  of  the  old  English  ballad.  Of  this 
the  reader  may  judge  by  referring  to  almost  any  one  of  them. 
Take,  for  example,  the  "  God  of  God,"  beginning, — 

"  Fierce  was  the  wild  billow," 

or  those  beginning, — 

"Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid?" 
and 

"  Safe  home,  safe  home  in  port." 

Some  of  them  rise  to  an  epic  grandeur,  as,  for  example,  that 
of  St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium,  of  which  the  first  line  is, — 

"Stars  of  the  morning,  so  gloriously  bright!" 

Ranging  over  the  Christian  Year,  called  by  a  clerical  writer 
"  the  Zodiac  of  the  Church,"  varied  as  they  are  in  form,  sub- 
ject, and  historic  period,  and  yet  catholic  in  tone,  teaching, 
and  spirit,  they  serve  to  show  us  of  the  modern  age  how  the 
holy  souls  in  all  the  centuries  of  Christianity,  giving  devout 
utterance  in  "psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs,"  have 
made  the  same  "  melody  in  their  hearts  unto  the  Lord,"  so  that 
when  brought  into  our  own  speech  we  at  once  make  them  our 
own ;  we  sing  their  songs  as  if  we  had  always  known  them, 
and  thank  God  for  His  goodness  in  their  own  beautiful  words, 
which  exemplify  "  diversities  of  gifts,  but  the  same  Spirit." 

My  first  intention  was  merely  to  propose  the  reprinting  of 
this  little  volume,  that  other  Christian  men  and  women  should 
share  the  pleasure  which  I  had  experienced ;  but,  upon  even  a 
cursory  examination  of  the  hymnals  and  modern  collections  in 
my  possession,  I  found  large  space  for  a  new  volume  of  Songs 


ENTBODUCTION.  1  1 

of  Praise,  in  which  Neale's  Eastern  Hymns  might  I»•  embodied, 
and  other  rare  and  beautiful  Christian  utterances  presented. 

And  as  the  gift-days  were  coming,  in  commemoration  of  that 
greatest  Gift  of  God  to  man,  it  was  thought  proper  to  pre] 
the  book  as  a  presentation-volume,  by  adorning  the  anthology  of 
sacred  poetry  with  the  rare  flowers  of  pictorial  art.  The  result 
is  this  truly  beautiful  volume, — a  Christmas  chant  to  the  new- 
born King  in  which  the  glorious  diapason  is  sounded  by  Chris- 
tian saints  in  all  ages,  without  one  discord  to  mar  the  catholic 
harmony.  Thus  much  to  avoid  misunderstanding  as  to  the 
character  of  the  volume.  It  is  not  a  general  hymnal,  but  a 
choice  collection  of  a  few  beautiful  and  not  common  hymns. 

A  hymnal  proposing  to  present  a  historical  picture  of  all  the 
curious  changes  in  Christian  hymnology  is,  indeed,  wry  much 
needed;  but  it  would  be  a  work  of  immense  labor,  demanding 
great  erudition.  It  would  clearly  mark  the  great  hymnic  periods 
in  the  history  of  the  Church,  and  the  causes  which  produced 
them.  It  would  show  why  the  Western  Church  was  still  desti 
tute  of  such  songs  in  worship,  while  the  Eastern  Church  had 
long  used  them,  not  only  in  her  solemn  eervices,  but  in  the 
mouths  of  her  children  by  the  hearth-stone  and  in  the  harvest- 
field.  It  would  take  us  bark  to  Bt.  Jerome  at  the  monastery  of 
Bethlehem,  and  to  his  great  contemporary,  <rregoryof  Nazianzen, 
who,  doubtless,  in  their  four  years'  r  pther,  discussed 

and  promoted  this  great  element  of  worship.     Ii  would  inform 
as  of  the  circumstances  which  in  the  fourth  century  spread  tl 
Bongs  of  prait  ghoul  the  world. 

The  history  in  BUch  a  hymnal  would  be  rich  and  varied.    ■  I 
occa-  :     invocations, 

reforms  general  and  demand;  and  ρ 

have  sprung  up  from  all  ranks  of  life  to  supply  the  deficieo 


12  INTRODUCTION. 

To  the  Fourth  Council  of  Toledo,  a.  d.  633,  is  due  the  honor 
of  having  enacted  that  hymns  should  be  used  throughout  the 
Western  Church  in  public  worship.  When  this  was  done,  it  was 
found  that  those  of  the  Eastern  Church  were  not  easily  trans- 
lated, and  that  the  West  must  prepare  its  own.  Then  emperors, 
kings,  and  popes  vied  with  each  other  in  this  holy  task.  Charle- 
magne thought  himself  honored  in  composing  hymns,  and  the 
churchmen,  from  pope  to  deacon,  were  prolific  of  sacred  poetry. 
Popes  like  Innocent  III.,  and  bishops  like  Hilary  of  Poictiers, 
paid  their  tributes  in  beautiful  verses ;  and  St.  Ambrose  insti- 
tuted choral  singing  in  that  Cathedral  of  Milan  which  was  in 
after-days  to  become  one  of  the  wonders  of  Europe. 

Thus  were  produced  such  poems  as  the  Te  Deum,  the  Dies 
Irce,  and  the  Stabat  Mater.  The  Church  in  all  ages  since  has 
embodied  such  strains  in  her  holiest  services,  and  thus  has  called 
upon  old  Judaism,  which  looked  for  Christ,  and  classic  oracle, 
which  groped  for  light,  to  acknowledge  the  might  of  Him  who 
was  at  once  King  of  the  Jews  and  King  of  kings, 

"Teste  David  cum  Sybilla," 

Deep  calling  unto  Deep  in  the  soul  of  man,  in  all  times  and  in  all 
languages. 

In  such  a  hymnal,  the  increase  and  improvement  of  church 
music  would  be  set  forth,  as  a  powerful  instrument  in  awakening 
devotion.  We  should  see  how  rhyming  Latin  conquered  the 
ancient  classic  metres,  and  for  a  thousand  years  played  an 
important  part  in  the  worship  of  God.  These  Latin  hymns, 
ranging  over  this  immense  period,  and  the  work  of  many  gifted 
writers,  were  indeed  encrusted  with  errors  afterwards  established 
by  ecclesiastical  edict;  but  underlying  these  were  all  the  great 
truths  of  Christianity,  expressed  in  fervid  language,  and  shining 
through  the  gloom  like  diamonds  in  the  dark  mine. 


INTRODUCTION.  1ϋ 

Leo  X.,  the  unconscious  instrument  of  the  Reformation  by  his 
of  indulgences  for  the  building  of  St.  Peter's,  bere  also 
committed  a  fatal  error  for  his  cause.  He  frowned  upon  the 
rhymes  and  measures,  and  favored  a  return  to  the  classic  met: 
but  he  could  not  curb  the  tide.  The  hymns,  and  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  presented,  had  met  with  universal  favor,  and  no 
papal  denunciation  could  consign  them  to  oblivion.  But  they 
are  not  to  be  tried  by  the  standards  of  the  Reformation,  which, 
properly  searching  for  their  faults,  foolishly  ignored  their  beau- 
ties. Many  of  them  are  narrative ;  not  a  few  are  legendary,  and 
even  fabulous  ;  some  are  turgid  and  obscure,  like  the  Pange 
lingua  gloviosa  and  the  Vexilla  Regis;  but  not  a  few,  like  the 
Dies  Irce,  are  of  unrivalled  grandeur. 

The  principal  collection  of  the  Latin  hymns  is  found  in  the 
Roman  Breviary.  There  had  been  many  breviaries'*  or  divine 
offices  for  the  canonical  hours;  but  these,  like  the  Uses  in  the 
reformed  Anglican  Church,  were  different  for  different  localities. 
The  Council  of  Trent,  which  established  the  doctrines  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  likewise  set  forth  a  Breviary  for  univer- 
sal adoption.  This  was  slightly  altered  by  Popes  Clement  VIII. 
and  Urban  VIII.,  who  thus  established  the  present  Breviary.  The 
French  clergy,  with  a  freedom  which  has  always  marked  the 
French  Church,  altered  and  rearranged  this,  to  constitute  what 
is  known  as  the  Paris  Breviary.  In  these  is  to  be  found  the 
wealth  of  Latin  hymns;  and  to  them  all  collectors  of  the 
Christian  poetry  must  always 

With  the  coming  of  the  Reformation  the  Latin  hymns,  air 
coldly  regarded  by  the  pope,  fell  into  temporary  disrepute, 
only  was  there  the  natural  prejudice  of  the  reform  linst 

the  language  in  which  they  were  written,  and  against  th< 
which   they  contained,   but  the   great    awakening   seemed 

4 


14  INTEODUCTION. 

demand  new  poems  and  collections ;  and  each  nation  called  for 
the  best  in  its  own  vernacular.  Hence  there  have  occurred 
hymnic  periods  from  that  time  to  our  own ;  and  hymns  often  not 
as  good  have  replaced  the  old  hymns  which  for  so  many  cen- 
turies had  given  rapture  to  the  cells  of  hermits  and  monks,  had 
been  sung  by  missionaries  in  primeval  forests,  and  had  been 
uttered  with  the  last  breath  of  dying  saints. 

We  cannot  pause  even  to  indicate  these  periods.  In  the 
Elizabethan  age  occur  the  names  of  Crashaw,  Herbert,  Vaughn, 
and  Wither ;  and  Luther's  noble  psalm-book  marks  such  an 
awakening  in  Germany.  A  later  period  produced  the  exquisite 
paraphrases  of  Addison;  and  Watts  poured  forth  his  devout 
spirit  in  a  large  volume  of  those  sententious  verses  which, 
notwithstanding  their  faults  of  diction  and  their  theological 
obscurities,  still  wing  the  devotions  of  millions,  on  Sundays  and 
working-days  alike,  throughout  the  world. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  purpose  to  refer  to  the  hymn-writers  and 
denominational  hymn-books  which  have  been  produced  since.  In 
most  cases  they  have  been  the  efforts  of  men  to  supply  a  need ; 
and,  although  they  have  failed  in  the  perfect  accomplishment, 
they  have  enriched  the  language  and  the  Church  with  most 
grateful  additions  to  its  hymnic  literature.  Such  were  the 
collections  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  and  of  Tate  and  Brady : 
such  were  the  efforts  of  the  Wesleys,  Montgomery,  and  Cowper. 

But  in  every  case  the  writers,  following  the  dictates  of  a 
special  creed,  have  presented  their  own  views;  and  the  collectors 
have  made  their  books  according  to  the  predilection  or  prejudice 
of  each  sect.  Satisfied  with  a  sonorous  amen  to  accepted  theo- 
logy, they  have  often  lost  sight  of  poetical  excellence ;  and  a 
morbid  feeling  has  been  engendered  which  excluded  the  beautiful 
simply  because  it  came  from  another  sect  than  their  own. 


LNTBODIN  ΓΙΟΝ;  L5 

But  tins.•  fallacies  have  wrought  their  own  cure;  and  now, 
without  relaxing  their  efforts  to  produce  the  new,  Christian 
scholars  are  returning  to  the  good  old  paths. 

No  wnc,  to  our  knowledge,  has  yet  attempted  a  great  historic 
hymnal.  This  work  remains  to  be  done;  but  scholars  of  the 
present  age  haw  touched  portions  of  the  field.  Among  these  are 
' '  -.,.11.  a  Roman  I  latholic  clergyman,  whose  collection  compi 
the  hymns  of  the  Roman  Breviary  and  those  of  the  breviaries  of 
Paris  and  Cluny,  and  also  die  hymns  and  sequences  from  the 
.Missal.     Dr.  Neale,  besides   the  Greek   hymns  mentioned,  has 

•  published  mediaeval  Latin  hymns;   and  many  writers  have 

a    English   renderings  of  special  Greek   and  Latin  hymns. 

Some  of  the  favorites  have  been  done  into  English  very  many 

times.     It  would  be  curious,  for  example,  to  collate  the  English 

ins  of  the  Dies  Ircc. 

Although  not  directly  a  part  of  our  subject,  it  may  not  be 
amiss  here  to  set  forth  the  true  meaning  and  character  of  a  hymn. 
In   its  technical  Christian  meaning,  a  hymn  touches  its  Greek 
etymology:    it  is  a  poem  in  honor  and  praise  of  tin•  Deity;  not 
simply  a  religious  poem,  but,  in  general,  an  address  of  peniti 
or  praise  to  the  Almighty.     We  would  not  invariably  insist  upon 
the  form  of  apostrophe ;  for,  to  borrow  the  idea  of  the  British 
Critic,  humility  often  imitates  the  Seraphim,  who  veil  their  1 - 
and  cry  one  to  another,  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy!"  but  it  must 
conceived  in  the  spirit  of  penitent  adoration  and  direcl  ascription 
of  praise.     A  doctrinal  poem  setting  forth  the  formularies  of  the 
Church  is  not  a  hymn;  nor  is  such  an  epic,  miscalled  eclogue, 
as  1'  irkling  paraphrase   from  Isaiah;   nor  is  a  homily  in 

vers.•,    η, ,ι•   a    set  of  expository   couplets.     The  poem  of    Μ 
gomcry  beginning, — 

"  Prayer  is  tli• 


16  INTKODUCTION. 

although  extremely  well  expressed,  has  no  element  of  a  hymn. 
Nothing  can  be  finer  than  the  verses  of  Cowper  beginning, — 
"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way  ;" 

but,  from  first  to  last,  it  is  a  solemn  lesson  to  man,  and  not  a 
tribute  of  praise  to  God.  In  proportion  as  a  religious  poem 
embodies  the  direct  idea  of  worship  it  approaches  the  technical 
model.  Such,  for  example,  are  many  of  the  psalms  of  David, 
still  used  by  the  Church  catholic  in  what  a  modern  writer  calls  a 
second  intention ;  that  is,  with  a  Christian  adaptation.  In  this 
view  of  worship  they  are  antiphonally  rendered  by  double  choirs, 
to  give  effect  to  the  responsive  meaning  of  their  versicles.  Such, 
too,  are  most  of  the  hymns  collected  in  the  various  breviaries, 
now  generally  known  in  spirited  translations ;  and  such  are  many 
of  those  of  the  Eastern  Church,  to  which  we  have  already  referred. 

Deviating  somewhat  from  the  model  which  we  have  presented 
are  the  Latin  and  Greek  hymns  intended  for  acts  of  special 
worship  on  the  various  feast  and  fast  days  of  the  Church ;  which, 
besides  the  ascriptions  of  praise,  indicate  or  explain  the  character 
of  the  holy-day  which  they  are  designed  to  commemorate. 

Let  us  venture  to  add  that  a  hymn  should  be  simple  in 
language  as  well  as  fervent  in  thought,  and  should  avoid 
rhetorical  brilliancy  and  the  art  of  the  schools.  It  is  designed 
for  the  great  heart  of  Christendom,  and  not  for  the  cultivated 
and  scholarly  few.  Thus  it  has  happened  that  the  best  hymns 
have  been  produced  by  writers  of  mediocrity,  and  not  by  the 
world's  great  poets.  Milton's  magnificent  "Ode  to  the  Nativity" 
is  miscalled  a  hymn ;  and,  although  the  greatest  of  English  poets, 
he  has  produced  no  hymn  which  is  a  universal  favorite;  while 
many  which  are  almost  anonymous  are  very  near  the  hearts  of 
all  Christian  people. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that,  in  the  modern  efforts  to  resuscitate, 


i'MRODUCTION.  1? 

the  true  meaning  of  a  hymn  has  been  almost  entirely  lost  sight 
of.  We  know  of  no  collection,  at  least,  in  which  it  is  the  leading 
feature.  To  refer  again  to  the  hymns  of  Watts,  we  find  a  flood 
of  religious  poetry  doing  the  office  of  exposition  and  exhortation, 
threatening,  instructing,  and  alarming  the  sinner,  encouraging 
the  saint,  describing  the  joys  of  heaven  and  the  horrors  of  the 
second  death,  paraphrasing  the  inimitable  Scriptures, — worthy, 
indeed,  to  be  read  and  pondered,  but  certainly  not  designed  to  be 
sung  by  Christians  who  stand  up,  at  the  bidding  of  the  minister, 
to  "  continue  the  worship  of  Almighty  God."  And  yet  in  this 
indiscriminate  manner  have  the  books  of  psalms  and  hymns  been 
collected  in  the  churches.  We  do  not  include  in  this  condemna- 
tion any  collections  but  those  designed  for  worship.  The  truly 
great  work  of  Keble  is  a  series  of  poems  to  illustrate  and  com- 
memorate the  holy-days  of  the  Christian  year.  It  was  not 
designed  for  use  in  the  churches;  but  each  poem  may  be  read 
with  profit  and  pleasure  as  an  exquisite  sermon  in  verse,  to  sup- 
plement at  home  the  church-services  of  the  day.  Were  it  not 
for  their  great  length,  however,  they  would  be  quite  as  appro- 
priate as  many  of  the  hymns  in  our  popular  collections. 

I  have  dwelt  thus  long  upon  the  character  of  the  hymn,  to 
correct  what  I  consider  a  prevailing  error ;  but  I  would  by  n<  > 
means  exclude  all  the  poems  which  do  not  come  up  to  the  rigor- 
ous standard  proposed.  Only  let  every  one  of  them  have  an 
indirect  bearing  at  least  upon  the  topic  of  praise  to  God. 

We  must  enter  upon  a  new  hymnic  period;  but  it  shouM  not 
be  characterized  by  frantic  efforts  to  produce  new  hymns.  We 
should  seek  to  use  the  gr  1th  which  is  now  our  inl. 

by  carefully  studying  its  treasures  and  by  great  sagacity  in 
selecting  from  them.  All  new  hymns  should  be  subjected  to 
rigorous  criticism  before  being  admitted  to  common  oae.     Of  one 

5 


18  INTRODUCTION. 

thing  we  should  be  careful ;  and  that  is,  in  our  first  presentation 
of  an  author  not  to  tamper  with  his  verse,  but  to  leave  it  as  he 
wrote  it.  Such  tampering  is  oftener  done  by  sectarian  prejudice 
than  by  ignorance.  Thus,  the  beautiful  Litany  Hymn  of  the 
Episcopal  Church,  with  the  well-known  refrain,  "  Hear  our 
solemn  litany,"  was  barbarously  rendered,  in  one  collection, 
"  Hear  thy  people  when  they  cry."  The  meaning  of  this  is 
evident ;  but  who  can  appreciate  the  ignorance  of  the  collector 
who  rendered  Cowper's  beautiful  lines, — • 

"Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 
Of  never-failing  skill," 

so  as  to  make  it  read,  "with  never-failing  skill,"  thus  losing  the 
finest  point  of-  the  imagery?  It  unfortunately  happens,  however, 
that  the  alterations  improperly  made  at  first  remain  fixed,  and 
become  so  familiar  in  the  ears  of  the  people  that  a  return  to  the 
original  is  impossible.  Such  is  the  case  in  the  hymn  beginning, 
"  Bock  of  ages,"  the  accepted  version  of  which  is  greatly  altered 
from  the  original  poem.  I  may  seem  to  violate  my  own  precept 
with  reference  to  this  very  hymn,  as  I  have  reproduced  it  from 
the  Episcopal  Prayer-Book;  but,  if  I  have  erred  in  so  doing,  it 
will  be  easy  for  my  readers,  thus  informed,  to  compare  it  with 
the  original. 

As  indicative  of  the  prevailing  spirit  of  the  times,  many 
Christian  bodies  are  engaged  in  preparing  new  collections  of 
psalms  and  hymns  for  public  worship.  The  General  Convention 
of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  1862  appointed  a  com- 
mittee on  "Hymnody  and  Metrical  Psalmody,"  to  revise  and 
alter  the  psalms  and  hymns  at  the  end  of  the  Prayer-Book.  The 
committee  consists  of  six  bishops,  five  clergymen,  and  two  lay- 
men, and  will  make  its  report  in  1865.  They  have  before  them 
an  important  work;    for  the  need  of   revision  is  great.     The 


INTB0D1  ΟΠΟΝ. 

psalms  in  metre  are  paraphrases,  by  no  means  -  •  the 

prose  version  of  the  psalter,  which  might  be  appropriately 
chanted  in  their  stead;  and  the  collection  of  hymns  is  faulty, 
in  my  judgment,  becauf  of  them  do  not  come  up  to 

standard  which  i  have  presumed  to  lay  down,  and  many  others 
are  far  more  valuable  for  their  devout  spirit  than  for  poetical 

ellence.  And  yet  it  is  true  of  both  these  classes  that  they 
have  bo  identified  themselves  with  the  affections  and  devotions 
Christian  people  in  public  worship,  m  private  sorrows,  and  in 
holy  joys,  that  to  remove  them  would  seem  like  cutting  oil'  a 
dear  "Id  friend  on  account  of  some  personal  deformity.  It  would 
In•  a  thankless  and  disagreeable  office  to  illustrate  by  Bpecial  •  \ 
amples  :  any  one  that  we  might  take  would  have  many  admire]  - 
aiming  our  readers,  who  would  be  pained  by  such  an  analysis. 

But  to  return  to  this  volume.  A  few  beautiful  pieces,  old  and 
new,  have  been  brought  together  without  any  attempt  at  chrono- 
logical arrangement,  and  yet,  it  is  hoped,  without  a  discordant 
note.  It  is  but  a  reproduction  of  the  old  "  Trisagion"  mel 
sung  by  many  voices,  ancient  and  modern,  bursting  loudly 
from  the  great  heart  of  the  Church  to-day,  and  with  chimings  of 
mellower  tones  and  still  fainter  utterance  as  we  reach  back  to 
the  apostolic  times.  Here  are  voices  from  all  the  centuries  and 
from  all  branches  of  the  Church.  Th<•  "  Kyrie  and  Chi 
Eleison"  of  the  Greek  Church  chimes  with  the  "Confiteor"  and 
the  "Agnus  Dei"  of  the  Latin  Church  of  the  Middle  Ages;  and 
both  form  a  harmonious  chord  with  the  never-ending  songs  of 
the  Anglican  Church,  and  of  those  of  millions  of  Christians  of  all 
denominations,  wdio  sound  the  praises  or  implore  the  atoi. 
mercy  of  Him  who  is  God  of  God,  Light  of  Light,  Very  God  of 
Very  God, — the  Lord  CL 

Most  of  the  poems  in  this  volume  are  hymns ;  but  I  have  not 


20  INTRODUCTION. 

scrupled  to  introduce  other  religious  poetry,  to  give  a  pleasant 
variety.  The  Greek  hymns  of  Neale  are  most  of  them  marked 
by  their  Greek  captions :  many  of  the  Latin  hymns  will  be  recog- 
nized in  a  similar  manner. 

I  desire  to  express  my  grateful  acknowledgments  to  my  friend 
the  Eev.  Dr.  Washburn,  late  Rector  of  St.  Mark's  Church,  Phila- 
delphia, and  now  of  Calvary,  New  York,  for  his  admirable  and 
scholarly  translations  of  several  beautiful  Latin  hymns;  and  I 
venture  to  express  the  hope  that  he  will  give  to  the  world  in 
book-form  his  researches  and  translations  in  that  field.  From 
other  friends  of  taste  I  have  received  suggestions  and  assistance, 
and  could  have  extended  the  volume  greatly  without  exhausting 
the  treasures  at  my  disposal. 

I  cannot  withhold  my  congratulations  and  thanks  from  the 
publishers  for  the  magnificence  of  the  art  illustrations,  for  the 
beauty  of  the  typography,  and  the  splendid  general  appearance 
of  this  volume.  The  first  impression  is  due  to  the  publishers' 
merits;  but  I  feel  secure  of  that  second  and,  I  hope,  more  lasting 
one,  which  will  be  made  upon  all  people  of  taste  and  piety  by  the 
perusal  of  many  of  these  beautiful  poems.  If  I  am  not  mistaken, 
their  devotion  will  be  rekindled,  and  their  taste  gratified.  They 
will  experience  a  new  pleasure  in  finding  themselves  brought 
into  a  new  communion,  bound  by  golden  links  to  the  saintly  and 
loving  hearts  of  those  "  holy  men  of  old,"  of  whom  it  may  be 
said,  with  no  irreverence,  that,  like  the  prophets,  they  spake  as 
they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Henry  Coppee. 


Τίτε  PiLiamis  of  .11 


< )  ιΐΛΐΊΎ  band  of  pilgrims, 
It'  onward  ye  will  tread 

With  Jesus  as  pour  Fellow 
To  Jesus  as  your  Head  ' 


22  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Oh,  happy,  if   ye  labor 
As  Jesus  did  for  men  ! 

Oh,  happy,  if   ye  hunger 
As  Jesus  hungered  then  ! 

The  Cross  that  Jesus  carried 
He  carried  as  your  due  : 

The  Crown  that  Jesus  weareth 
He  weareth  it  for  you. 

The  Faith  by  which  ye  see  Him, 
The  Hope  in  which  ye  yearn, 

The  Love  that  through  all  troubles 
To  Him  alone  will  turn,: — ■ 

What  are  they,  but  vaunt-couriers 
To  lead  you  to  His  Sight? 

What  are  they,  save  the  effluence 
Of  Uncreated  Light? 

The  trials  that  beset  you, 
The  sorrows  ye  endure, 

The  manifold  temptations 

That  Death  alone  can  cure, — 


What  are  they,  but  His  jewels 
Of  right  celestial  worth? 

What  are  they,  but  the  ladder 
Set  up  to  heaven  on  earth? 


stars    OP    THE    MORNING. 

()  happy  band  of  pilgrims, 

Loot   upward  to  the  skies, — 
Where  such  a  Π lt  1 1 1  affliction 
Shall  win  you  such  a  prize  ! 

St.  Joseph  of  tiik  Stcdivm. 


STARS  OF  THE   MORNING. 

Stars  of   the  morning,   so  gloriously  bright, 
Filled  with  celestial  resplendence  and  light ; 
These  that,  where  night  never  followeth  day. 
Ruse  the  Trishagion  ever  and  ay. 

These  are  Thy  counsellors  :    these  dost  Thou  own, 
God  of  Babaoth !    the  nearest  Thy  throne; 
These  are  Thy  ministers,   these  dost  Thou  send, 
Help  of  the  helpless  ones!    man  to  defend. 

These  keep  the  guard,   amidst   Salem's  dear  bowers  : 
Thrones.   Principalities,  Virtu••-,  and   Powers 
Where  with  the  living  Ones,   mystical   Four. 
Cherubim,  Seraphim,  how  and  adore. 

"Who  like  tin•  Lord?"    thunders  Michael,  th»j  Chief 
Raphael,   "the  Cure  of  God,     comforteth  <_Γπ<•ί 
And,  as  al    Nazareth,  prophel  of  peace, 
Gabriel,  "the  Light  of  God,"  bringeth  rel< 


24  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Then,  when  the  earth  was  first  poised  in  mid  space, - 
Then,  when  the  «planets  first  sped  on  their  race, — 
Then,  when  were  ended  the  six  days'   employ, — 
Then  all  the  Sons  of   God  shouted  for   joy. 

Still  let  them  succor  us  ;    still  let  them  fight, 
Lord  of   angelic  hosts,  battling  for  right ! 
Till,   where  their  anthems  they  ceaselessly  pour. 
We  with  the  Angels  may  bow  and  adore  ! 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium. 


EVENING  HYMN. 

την  ήμ.έραν   ΰιελϋών. 

The  day  is  past  and  over : 

All  thanks,  Ο  Lord,  to  Thee! 
I  pray  Thee  that  offenceless 
The  hours  of   dark  may  be. 
Ο  Jesu !    keep. me  in  Thy  sight 
And  save  me  through  the  coming  night ! 

The   jovs  of  day  are  over  : 

I  lift  my  heart  to  Thee, 
And  call  on  Thee,  that  sinless 

The  hours  of   sin  may  be. 


EVENING    HYMN. 


■!■> 


0  Jesu !    make  their  darkness*  light, 
And  save  me  through  the  coming  night 


0&έ 


.•<*, 


The  toils  of   day  are  over 

I  raise  the  hymn  to  Thee, 

And  ask  that  free  from  peril 

The  hours  of   fear   may  be. 

0  Jesu  !    keep  me  in  Thy  eight 

And  guard  me  through  the  coming  night  I 


Lighten   mine  eyes,  0  Saviour, 
Or  sleep  in  death  shall  I ; 

7 


26  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

And  he,  my  wakeful  tempter, 
Triumphantly  shall  cry, 
"He  could  not  make  their  darkness  light, 
Nor  guard  them  through  the  hours  of  night 

Be  Thou  my  soul's  preserver, 

Ο  God !    for  Thou  dost  know 
How  many  are  the  perils 

Through  which  I  have  to  go :  t 
Lover  of   men,  oh,  hear  my  call, 
And  guard  and  save  me  from  them  all ! 

St.  Anatolius. 


"GOD  OF  GOD,   LIGHT  OF    LIGHT,  VERY  GOD 
OF  VERY  GOD." 

ζυψεράς  τρικυμίας. 

Fieece  was  the  wild  billow ; 

Dark  was  the  night ; 
Oars  labored  heavily ; 

Foam  glimmered  white ; 
Trembled  the  mariners  ; 

Peril  was  high  : 
Then  said  the  God  of  God, 

— "  Peace  !     It  is  I !" 


GOD   OF   GOD.  •  27 

Ridge  of  the  mountain-wave, 

Lower  thy  creel  ' 
Wail  of  Euroclydon, 

Be  thou  at  rest ! 
Sorrow  can  never  be, — 

Darkness  must  fly, — 
Where  saith  the  Light  of   Light. 

—"Peace!     It  is   I  '" 

Jesu,  Deliverer ! 

Come  Thou  to  me  : 
Soothe  Thou  my  voyaging 

Over  Life's  sea ! 
Thou,  when  the  storm  of   Death 

Roars,  sweeping  by, 
Whisper,  Ο  Truth  of  Truth! 

—"Peace!     It  is  I!" 

St.  Anatolius. 


28  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 

μέγα   χα}   παράδοξον   θαΰμα. 

A  great  and  mighty  wonder  ! 

A  full  and  holy  cure ! 
The  Virgin  bears  the  Infant 

With  Virgin-honor  pure  ! 

The  Word  is  made  Incarnate. 

And  yet  remains  on  high  : 
And  Cherubim  sing  anthems 

To  shepherds  from  the  sky. 

And  we  with  them  triumphant 

Repeat  the  hymn  again  : 
"To  God  on  high  be  glory, 

And  peace  on  earth  to  men !" 

While  thus  they  sing  your  Monarch, 
Those  bright  angelic  bands, 

Rejoice,  ye  vales  and  mountains ! 
Ye  oceans,  clap  your  hands ! 

Sinde  all  He  comes  to  ransom. 

By  all  be  He  adored, 
The  Infant  born  in  Bethlehem, 

The  Saviour  and  the  Lord ! 


CHRISTMAS-TIDE. 


29 


And  idol  forms  shall  perish, 
And  error  shall  decay, 

And  Christ  shall  wield  His  ecep 
Our  Lord  and  God  for  aye. 


•   St.  Axatolius. 


■Σ&-~ 


30  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ST.  STEPHEN'S  DAY. 

τω   Βασιλεϊ  xal   Δεσπότη, 

The  Lord  and  King  of  all  things 

But  yesterday  was  born  : 
And  Stephen's  glorious  offering 

His  birth  tide  shall  adorn. 
No  pearls  of  orient  splendor, 

No  jewels,  can  he  show  ; 
But  with  his  own  true  heart's  blood 

His  shining  vestments  glow. 

Come,  ye  that  love  the  Martyrs, 

And  pluck  the  flowers  of  song, 
And  weave  them  in  a  garland 

For  this  our  suppliant  throng  : 
And  cry,  Ο  thou  that  shinest 

In  grace's  brightest  ray, 
Christ's  valiant  Protomartyr, 

For  peace  and  favor  pray  ! 

Thou  first  of  all  Confessors, 
Of  all  the  Deacons  crown, 

Of  every  following  athlete 
The  glory  and  renown: 


~:     STEPHEN'S    DA'S  >1 

Make  supplication,  standing 

Before  Christ's  Royal  Throne, 
That  He  would  give  the  Kingdom, 

And  for  our  sins  atone  ' 


[With    the   above    stanzas  the   reader   may  not  be  displeased  to 

compare   the   celebrated    sequence   oi    Adam  ol    St.    Victor,    II 

mundus    exuUavit,  which    has    never    yet,  we  believe,  appeared    in 
English.] 

Her)   mundus  exuUavit. 

Yesterday  with   exultation 
Joined  the  world  in  celebration 

Of  her  promised  Saviour's  birth: 
Yesterday  the  Angel  nation 
Toured   the  strain  of  jubilation 

O'er  the  Monarch  born  on  earth. 

But  to-day,  o'er  death  victorious, 
By  his  faith  and  actions  glorious, 

By  Ins  miracles  renowned. 
Dared  the  Deacon  Protomartyr 
Earthly  life  for   Heaven  to  barter, 

Faithful  midst  the  faithless  found. 

Forward,  champion,  in  thy  quarrel  I 
Certain  of  a  certain  laurel, 

Holy  Stephen,  persevi 
Perjured  witness•  -  confounding, 
Satan's  Synagogue  astounding 

By  thy  doctrine  true  and  clear. 


32  SONGS    OF   PRAISE. 

Lo !    in  Heaven  thy  Witness  liveth ; 
Bright  and  faithful  proof   He  giveth 

Of  His  Martyr's  full  success : 
Thou  by  name  a  Crown  impliest ; 
Meetly  then  in  pangs  thou  diest 

For  the  Crown  of  Righteousness ! 

For  a  crown  that  fadeth  never, 
Bear  the  torturer's  brief   endeavor ; 

Victory  waits  to  end  the  strife  : 
Death  shall  be  thy  birth's  beginning, 
And  life's  losing  be  the  winning 

Of  a  true  and  better  life. 

Whom  the  Holy  Ghost  endueth, 
Whom  celestial  light  imbueth, 

Stephen  penetrates  the  skies  : 
There  God's  fullest  glory  viewing, 
There  his  victor  strength  renewing, 

For  his  near  reward  he  sighs. 


"to" 


See,  as  Jewish  foes  invade  thee, 
See,  how  Jesus  stands  to  aid  thee  ; 

/Stands,  to  guard  His  champion's  death ! 
Cry  that  opened  Heaven  is  shown  thee : 
Cry  that  Jesus  waits  to  own  thee  : 

Cry  it  with  thy  latest  breath  ! 

As  the  dying  Martyr  kneeleth, 
For  his  murderers  he  appealeth, 
And  his  prayer  their  pardon  sealeth, 
For  their  madness  grieving  sore ; 


PALM    BTJlfDAY. 

Then  in  Ohrisl  be  eleepetb  Bweetly, 
Who  bis  pattern  kepi  completely, 
Ami  with  Christ  he  reigneth  meetly, 
Martyr  Bret-fruits,  evermore  ' 


PALM   SUNDAY. 

Ίη/τυΰς   ύτΐέρ   τυΰ  χόιτμιιυ. 


Jesus,  hastening  for  the  world  to  suffer. 

Enters  in,  Jerusalem,  to  thei 
With  His  Twelve  He  goeth  forth  to  offer 

That  free  Sacrifice  He  came  to  be. 

They  that  follow  Him  with  true  affection 
Stand  prepared  to  suffer  for  Hi.-  Name: 

Be  we  ready,  then,  for  mail's  rejection, 
For  the  mockery,  the  reproach,  the  shame 

Now.   in  sorrow.   Borrow  finds  its  healing: 

In  the  form  wherein  our  father  fell, 
Christ  appears,  those  quickening  Wbunda  revealing, 

Which  shall  save  from  sin   and  death  and   hell. 

Now.  Judea,  call  thy  Priesthood  nigh  thee! 

Xow  for  Deicide  prepare  thy  hand- ' 
Lo !    thy  Monarch,  meek  and  gentle,  by  thee! 

Lo !   the  Lamb  and  Shepherd  in  tl  ads! 


34 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


To  thy  Monarch,  Salem,  give  glad  greeting 
Willingly  he  hastens  to  be  slain, 


For  the  multitude  His  entrance  meeting 
With  their  false  Hosanna's.  ceaseless  strain. 
Blest  is  He  that  comes,  they  cry, 
On  the  Cross  for  man  to  die  ! 


St.  Andeew  of  Crete. 


WHENCE    SHALL    MY    TEARS    BEGIN  "  35 


WHENCE  SHALL  MY  TEARS  BEGIN? 

Πόθεν  ϋρζυμαι   Ορψε'ιν  ; 

Whence  shall  my  tears  begin? 

What  first-fruits  shall  I  bear 
Of  earnest  sorrow  for  my  sin  ? 

Or  how  my  woes  declare? 
Ο  Thou,  the  Merciful  and  Gracious  One ! 
Forgive  the  foul  transgressions  I  have  done. 

With  Adam  I  have  vied, 

Yea,  passed  him,  in  my  fall ; 

And  I  am  naked  now,  by  pride 

And  lust  made  bare  of  all ; 

Of  Thee,  Ο  God,  and  that  Celestial  Band, 

And  all  the  glory  of  the  Promised  Land. 

No  earthly  Eve  beguiled 

My  body  into  sin : 
A  spiritual  temptress  smiled, 

Concupiscence  within  ; 
Unbridled  passion  grasp'd  the  nnhallow'd  sweet 
Most  bitter — ever  bitter — was  the  meat. 

If  Adam's  righteous  doom, 
Because  he  dared  transgress 


36  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Thy  one  decree,  lost  Eden's  bloom 
And  Eden's  loveliness, 
What  recompense,  Ο  Lord,  must  I  expect, 
AVho  all  my  life  Thy  quickening  laws  neglect? 

By  mine  own  act,  like  Cain, 

A  murderer  was  I  made  : 
By  mine  own  act  my  soul  was  slain, 

When  Thou  wast  disobeyed: 
And  lusts  each  day  are  quickened,  warring  still 
Against  the  soul  with  many  a  deed  of   ill. 

Thou  formeclst  me  of   clay, 

Ο  Heavenly  Potter!     Thou 
In  fleshly  vesture  didst  array, 

With  life  and  breath  endow. 
Thou  Who  didst  make,  didst  ransom,  and  dost  know 
To  Thy  repentant  creature  pity  show  ! 

My  guilt  for  vengeance  cries ; 

But  yet  Thou  pardonest  all, 
And  whom  Thou  lovest  Thou  dost  chastise, 

And  mourn 'st  for  them  that  fall : 
Thou,  as  a  Father,  mark'st  our  tears  and  pain, 
And  welcomest  the  prodigal  again. 

I  lie  before  Thy  door, 

Oh,  turn  me  not  away  ! 
Nor  in  mine  old  age  give  me  o'er 

To  Satan  for  a  prey  ! 
But  ere  the  end  of   life  and  term  of   grace, 
Thou  Merciful,  my  many  sins  efface  ! 


nil;  OREAl    ι  AST. 

The  Priest  beheld,  and  passed 

The    way    lit•    had   to   go  : 

A  careless  glance  the  Levite  cast, 
And  Left   me  to  my  \ 
But  Thou,  Ο  Jesu,   Mary's  Son.  coneole, 
Draw  nigh  and  succor  me,  and  make  me  whole' 

Thou  Spotless  Lamb  divine, 

Who  takesi   sins  away, 
Remove  far  oil'  the  load  that   mine 

Upon  my  conscience  lay  : 
And,  of  thy  tender  mercy,  grant   Thou    me 
To  find  remission  of  iniquity  ' 

St.  A.NDREW  of  Crete. 


ΙΊΙΙ•:  GREAT    FAST 

on  yny  Βλέπεις  7<Λς   ταράττοντας. 

Christian,  dosl  thou  see  them 

On  the  holy  ground, 
How   tin•   troops  of    Midian 

Prowl   and   prowl   around 
( lii'i-tian.    up  and   smite   them, 

1  bunting  gain  but  Ioe 
Smite  them  by  the  mi 

Of  the  Holy  ι 

HI 


38 


SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


Christian,  dost  thou  feel  them, 
How  they  work  within, 

Striving,  tempting,  luring, 
Goading  into  sin? 


Christian,  never  tremble  ! 

Never  be  downcast ! 
Smite  them  by  the  virtue 

Of  the  Lenten  Fast! 


CHBISTOS    AM:sTI. 

Christian,  dosl  thou  hear  them, 
How  tlicv  speak  thee  fair? 

"Always  fast  and  vigil? 
Always  watch  and  prayi 

Christian,  answer  boldly  : 

"While  I  breathe  I  pray 
Peace  shall  follow  battle. 

Night  shall  end  in  day 

Well   1  know  thy  trouble, 

Ο  My  servant  true  . 
Thou  art  very  weary, — 

1    was   weary  too : 
But   that    toil   shall   make  thi 

Some  day,  all   Mine  own  ; 
But  the  end  of  sorrow 

Shall  be  near  My  Thronel" 

Andrew  of  Ceete. 


CHRISTOS   AXESTT. 

άχΜΤτάιτεως   ήμίρα. 

Tis  the  Day  of  Resurrection 
Earth,  tell  it  out  abroad  I 

The  Passover  of  Gladnee 
The  Passover  of  God  I 


40 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


From  Death  to  Life  Eternal, — 
From  Earth  unto  the  sky, 

Our  Christ  hath  brought  us  over, 
With  hymns  of  victory. 


Our  hearts  be  pure  from  evil, 
That  we  may  see  aright 


STAND    ON     1 1 1 V    WATCH-TOWER.  41 

The  Lord  in  rays  eternal 

Of  Resurrection-Light  : 
And,  listening  to  His  accents, 

May  hear,  so  calm  and  plain, 
His  own  All  Hail!   and,  hearing, 

May  raise  the  victor  strain  ! 

Now  let  the  Heavens  be  joyful  ! 

Let  earth  her  song  begin  ' 
Let  the  round  world  keep  triumph, 

And  all  that  is  therein  : 
invisible  and  visible, 

Their  notes  let  all  things  blend  : 
For  Christ  the  Lord  hath  risen, — 

Our  Joy  that  hath  no  end. 

St.  John  Damascene. 


STAND  ON  THY  WATCH-TOWER. 

iz\  τΐ,ς   Ο'ιας   φυλαχΐ,ς. 

Stand  on  thy  watch-tower,  Habakkuk  the  Beer, 
And  show  the  Angel,  radiant  in  his  ligW  : 

To-day.  saith  ho.  Salvation  shall  app 

Because  the  Lord  hath  risen,  as  Grod  of  might. 

The  male  that  opes  the  Virgin's  womb  is  He; 

The  Lamb  of  Whom  His  faithful  people  eat; 

Our  truer  Passover  from  blemish  tY• 

Our  very  God,  Whose  Name  is  all  compl• 

π 


42 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


This  yearling  Lamb,  our  Sacrifice  most  blest, 
Our  glorious  Crown,  for  all  men  freely  dies 


Our  cleansing  Pascha,  beauteous  from  his  rest, 
Behold  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  arise. 


LET    is    RISE    IN    EARLY    MORNING.  43 

Before  the  ark,  a  type  to  pass  away, 

David  of  old  time  danced :    we,  holier  race, 

Seeing  the  Antitype  come  forth  to-day, 

Hail  with  a  shout  Christ's  own  Almighty  grace. 

St.  John  Damascene. 


LET  US   RISE  IN  EARLY  MORNING. 

όρθρίσωμεν  δρθυυ  βαθέος. 

Let  us  rise  in  early  morning 
And,  instead  of  ointments,  bring 

Hymns  of  praises  to  our  Master, 
And  his  Resurrection  sing : 

We  shall  see  the  Sun  of  Justice 
Risen  with  healing  on  His  wing. 

Thy  unbounded  loving-kindness, 

They  that  groaned  in    Eades1  chain, 

Prisoners,  from  afar  beholdio 
Hasten  to  tin•  lighl   again  ; 

Ami  to  that  eternal   Pascha 

Wove  tlic  dance  and  raised  the  strain . 

I  ί•.  ye  forth,    His  SamK  to  meel    Him  ! 
with  lamps  m  every   hand! 


44  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

From  the  sepulchre  He  riseth  : 
Ready  for  the  Bridegroom  stand : 

And  the  Pascha  of  salvation 
Hail,  with  his  triumphant  band. 

St.  John  Damascene. 


THE  FURNACE. 

Ό  παϊδας  έχ  χαμίνυυ. 


Who  from  the  fiery  furnace  saved  the  Three, 

Suffers  as  mortal ;    that,  His  passion  o'er, 
This  mortal,  triumphing  o'er  death,  might  be 
Vested  with  immortality  once  more. 

He  Whom  our  fathers  still  confessed 
Grod  over  all,  forever  blest. 

The  women  with  their  ointment  seek  the  tomb, 

And  Whom  they  mourned  as  dead,  with  many  a  tear, 
They  worship  now,  joy  dawning  on  their  gloom, 
As  Living  God,  as  mystic  Passover ; 
Then  to  the  Lord's  Disciples  gave 
The  tidings  of   the  vanquished  grave. 

We  keep  the  festal  of   the  death  of   death  ; 

Of  hell  o'erthrown  ;    the  first-fruits,  pure  and  bright, 


(  SALEM  Ι•> 

I  >t    lite  eternal  ;    and,  with  joyous  breath, 

Praise  Him  that  won  the  victory  by   Eis  might  ; 
Him  Whom  our  fathers  still  confessed 
God  over  all,  forever  blest, 

All  hallowed  festival,  in  splendor  born  ' 

Night  of  salvation  and  of  glory  !     Night 
Foreheralding  the  Resurrection  morn  ! 

When  from  the  tomb  the  everlasting  Light. 
A  glorious  frame  once  more  his  own. 
Upon  the  world  in  splendor  shone 

St.  John  Damascene. 


JERUSALEM. 


Thou  New  Jerusalem,  arise  and  shine  ' 
The  glory  of   the  Lord  on  thee  hath  risen 

Sion,  exult !    rejoice  with   joy  divine, 

Mother  of   God!    Thy  Sun   hath   bursl    his   prifi 

Ο  Heavenly  Voice  '     Ο  word  of   purest   love  ' 
"  Lo  !    I  am  with  you  alway   to  the  end." 

This  is  the  anchor,  steadfast  from  above. 

The  golden  anchor,  whence  our  hopes  depend. 

12 


46 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Ο  Christ,  our  Pascha !    greatest,  holiest,  best ! 

God's  Word  and  Wisdom  and  effectual  Might 
Thy  fuller,  lovelier  presence  manifest 

In  that  eternal  realm  that  knows  no  night ! 


St.  John  Damascene. 


THK    DAWN     IS    SPRINKLING.  I, 


THE   DAWN    IS  SPRINKLING. 

Aurora  jam  spar  git  polum. 

The  dawn  is  sprinkling  in  the  east 
It-  golden  shower,  as  day  flows  m; 

Fast  mount  the  pointed  shafts  of   light ; — 
Farewell  to  darkness  and  to  sin  ! 

Away,  ye  midnight   phantoms  all ! 

Away,  despondence  and  despair  ' 
Whatever  guilt  the  night  has  brought. 

Now  let  it  vanish  into  air. 

So,  Lord,  when  that  last  morning  breaks 
Which  shrouds  in  darkness  earth  and  skies, 

May  it  on  us,  low  bending  here, 
Arrayed  in  joyful  light  arise ! 

To  God  the   Father  glory  be, 

And  to  His  sole-begotten  Son  ; 
The  same,  Ο  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 

While  everlasting  ages  run. 


FOE   ALL   BAINT8.  49 


FOR  ALL  SAINTS. 

τάς   ίΰράς  τάς   αΙω^ίας. 

Those  eternal  bowers 

Man  hath  never  trod, 
Those  unfading  flowers 

Round  the  Throne  of   God  : 
"Who  may  hope  to  gain  them 

After  weary  fight  ? 
Who  at  length  attain  them 

Clad  in  robes  of   white? 

He  who  gladly  barters 

All  on   earthly  ground; 
He  who,  like  the  Martyrs, 

Says,  "  I  will  be  crowned !" 
He  whose  one  oblation 

[s  a  life  of  love  ; 
Clinging  to  the   nation 

Of  the  Blesl  above. 

Shame  upon   vou,   legions 
Of  the   Beavenly   King, 

Denizens  of   regions 
Past  imagining  ' 

13 


50  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

What !    with,  pipe  and  tabor 

Fool  away  the  light, 
When  He  bids  you  labor, — 

When  He  tells  you,— "  Fight !" 

» 
While  I  do  my  duty, 

Struggling  through  the  tide, 
Whisper  Thou  of   beauty 

On  the  other  side  ! 
Tell  who  will  the  story 

Of  our  now  distress : 
Oh,  the  future  glory  ! 

Oh,  the  loveliness  ! 

St.  John  Damascene. 


FIX   ME   FIRMLY. 

στερέωσαν  //s,   Χριστέ. 

"  On  the  rock  of  Thy  commandments 
Fix  me  firmly,  lest  I  slide  : 

With  the  glory  of  Thy  Presence 
Cover  me  on  every  side  ; 

Seeing  none  save  Thee  is  holy, 
God,  forever  glorified!" 


FIX    ME    FIRMLY.  51 

New  immortal  out  of  mortal. 

New  existence  out  of   old  : 
This  the  Cross  of  Christ  accomplished, 

This  the  Prophets  had  foretold : 
So  that  we.  thus  newly  quickened, 

Might  attain  the  heavenly  fold. 

Thou  who  comprehendest  all  things, 

Comprehended  by  the  tomb, 
Gav'st  Thy    Body  to  the  grave-clothes 

And  the  silence  and  the  gloom  ; 
Till  through  fast-closed  doors  Thou  earnest 

Thy  Disciples  to  illume. 

Every  nail  print,  every  buffet, 

Thou  didst  freely  undergo, 
Ajs  Thy    Resurrection's  witness 

To  tli•'  Twelve  Thou  cam'st  to  ehow: 
So  that  what    they  saw   in   vision, 

Future  year-  by  faith  mighl   know 

-     John  Damascene. 


5?  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


THE  DARK   MYSTERY. 

μέγα  το  μυστήριον. 

"Christ,  we  turn  our  eyes  to  Thee, 

And  this  mighty  mystery  ! 

Habakkuk  exclaimed  of  old, 

In  the  Holy  Spirit  bold, 

'  Thou  shalt  come  in  time  appointed, 

For  the  help  of  Thine   anointed !'  ' 

Taste  of  myrrh  He  deigned  to  know. 
Who  redeemed  the  source  of  woe  : 
Now  He  bids  all  sickness  cease 
Through  the  honey-comb  of  peace, 
And  to  this  world  deigns  to  give 
That  sweet  fruit  by  which  we  live. 

Patient  Lord  !    with  loving  eye 
Thou  invitest  Thomas  nigh ; 
Showing•  of  that  Wounded  Side : 
While  the  world  is  certified, 
How  the  third  day,  from  the  grave, 
Jesus  Christ  arose  to  save. 


god  ι  οΜΕβ 


Blest,  Ο  Didymus,  the  tongue 

Where  that   tirst  confession  hung  : 
First  the  Saviour  to  proclaim, 
Firsl   tii-•    Lord  of    Life  to  name : 
Such  the  graces  it  supplied, — 
That  dear  touch  of  Jesu's  side  ' 


St.  John  Damascene. 


GOD   COMES. 

'()   huf/ίος  έρχεται. 

God  comes  ! — and  who  shall  stand  before  His  fear  ? 
Who  bide  His  Presence,  when  He  draweth  near? 

My  soul,  my  soul,  prepare 

To  kneel  before  Him  there ! 

Baste, — weep, — be  reconciled  to   Hun   before 
The  fearful  judgment  knocketh  at  the  door, 

\\'hen>,   in   the  Judge's  e\ 

All  bare  and   naked  lies. 

Eave  mercy,   Lord,  have  mercy,   Lord.   I  cry. 
When  with  Thine  angels  Thou  appear'st  on  high, 

And  each  a  doom  shall  herit 

According  to  his  merit. 


54 


SOKGS  of  praise. 


How  can  I  bear  Thy  fearful  anger,  Lord? 

I,  that  so  often  have  transgress'd  Thy  word? 
But  put  my  sins  away, 
And  spare  me  in  that  day  ! 


Ο  miserable  soul,  return,  lament, 

Ere  earthly  converse  end,  and  life  be  spent 


CHRISTMAS    DAY. 


Ere,  time  for  sorrow  ο 

The   Bridegroom  close  the  <loor ! 


- 


Yea,   Γ  have  sinned,  as  no  man  sinned  beside 
With  more  than  human  guilt   my  soul   is  dyed  : 
But  spare  and  eave  me  1  ι 

Before  that   day  appear! 

Three  Persons  in  one  Essence  uncreate, 
On  Whom,  both  Three  and  One,  our  praises  wait. 
Give  everlasting  light 
To  them  that  Bins  Thv  might! 

St.  Theodore  of  the  Studium. 


CHRISTMAS   DAY. 

Λ'ρισζδς  γεμάτα•.'   δοςάσαζε. 

Christ  is  born !     Tell  forth  his  fame  ! 
Christ  from  Heaven!     His  love  proclaim' 
Christ  on  earth  !     Exalt  his  Name  ! 
Sing  to  the  Lord,  Ο  world,   with  exultation  ! 
Break  forth  in  glad  thanksgiving,  every  nation! 
For  He  hath   triumphed  gloriously  ' 

Man,  in  God's  own  Image  mi 
M:m.  by  Baton's  wiles  betrayed, 
Man,  on  whom  corruption  preyed, 


56  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Shut  out  from  hope  of   life  and  of   salvation, 
To-day  Christ  maketh  him  a  new  creation, 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously ! 

For  the  Maker,  when  His  foe 
Wrought  the  creature  death  and  woe, 
Bowed  the  Heavens,  and  came  below, 
And,  in  the  Virgin's  womb  His  dwelling  making, 
Became  True  Man,  man's  very  nature  taking ; 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously  ! 

He,  the  Wisdom,  Word,  and  Might, 
God,  and  Son,  and  Light  of  light, 
Undiscovered  by  the  sight 
Of  earthly  monarch,  or  infernal  spirit, 
Incarnate  was,  that  we  might  Heaven  inherit ; 
For  He  hath  triumphed  gloriously ! 

St.  Cosmas. 


THE  EXPRESS  IMAGE. 

τω   προ  των  αιώνων. 

Him,  of  the  Father's  very  Essence 
Begotten,  ere  the  world  began, 

And,  in  the  latter  time,  of  Mary, 
Without  a  human  sire,  made  Man 


ΤΠΕ    EXPRESS    IMAGE.  57 

Unto  Ilim,   this  glorious  morn, 

Be  the  strain  outpoured; 
Thou  that  lifteet  up  our  horn, 

Holy  art  thou,   Lord ! 

The  earthly  Adam,  erewhile  quickei 

By  the  blest  breath  of   God  on  high, 
Now  made  the  victim  of  corruption, 
By  woman's  guile  betrayed  to  die, 
He,  deceived  by  woman's  part, 

Supplication  poured  ; 
Thou  Who  in  my  nature  art, 
Holy  art  Thou,   Lord  ! 

Thou,  Jesus  Christ,  wast  consubstantial 

With  this  our  perishable  clay, 
And,  by  assuming  earthly  nature, 
Exaltedst  it  to  heavenly  day. 

Thou  That  wast  as  mortal  born, 

Being  God  adored. 
Thou  That  liftest  up  our  horn, 
Holy  art  Thou,  Lord ! 

Rejoice,  Ο  Bethlehem,  the  city 

Whence  Judah's  monarchs  had  their  birth ; 
Where  lie  that  sitteth  on  the  Cherubs, 
The  Kins  of    [srael.  came  on  earth: 
Manifested  this  blest  morn, 

As  of  old  time  never, 
He  hath  lifted  up  our  horn, 
He  shall  reign  forever ! 

St.  Cosmas. 
v> 


58  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


THE   GOD-MAN. 

'Ράβδος  έχ  τ^ς  ρίζης. 

Rod  of  the  Root  of  Jesse, 

Thou,   Flower  of  Mary  born, 
From  that  thick  shady  mountain 

Cam'st  glorious  forth  this  morn : 
Of  her,  the  Ever  Virgin, 

Incarnate  wast  Thou  made, 
The  immaterial  Essence, 

The  God  by  all  obeyed ! 

Glory,  Lord,   Thy  servants  pay 
To  thy  wondrous  might  to-day  ! 

The  Gentiles'  expectation, 

Whom  Jacob's  words  foretell, 
Who  Syria's  pride  shalt  vanquish, 

Samaria's  power  shalt  quell ; 
Thou  from  the  Root  of  Judah 

Like  some  fair  plant  dost  spring, 
To  turn  old  Gentile  error 

To  Thee,  its  God  and  King ! 

Glory,  Lord,  Thy  servants  pay 
To  Thy  wondrous  might  to-day  ! 


ΤΙΤΕ   GOD-MAN.  59 

Τη  Balaam's  ancient  vision 

The  East<  π  killed  ; 

They  marked  the  constellations, 

And  joy  their  spirits  filled  . 
For  Thou,  bright  Star  of  Jacob, 

Arising  in  Thy  might, 
Didst  call  these  Gentile  first-fruits 

To  worship  in  Thy  light. 

They,  in  holy  reverence  bent, 
Gifts  acceptable  present. 

As  on  a  fleece  descending 

The  gentle  dews  distil, 
As  drops  the  earth  that  water, 

The  Virgin  didsl  Thou  fill.  • 

For  Media,  d  with  Sheba, 

lis  down  and  worships  Thee: 
Tarshish  and  Ethiopia, 
The  Isles  and  Araby. 

Glory,  Lord.  Thy  servants  pay 
To  Thy  wondrous  might  to-day  ! 

St.  Cosm.vs. 


60 


SOKGS    OF    PEAISE. 


-  on-  ' 


ART  THOU  WEARY? 


y.6~ov  τε  y.dl  χάματον. 


Aet  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid. 

Art  thou  sore  distrest? 
"Come  to  Me," — saith  One, — "and,  coming, 
Be  at  rest !" 


AET    TIIOU    WEAEY?  61 

Hath  He  marks  to  lead  me  to  Him, 

If  He  be  my  Guide? 
"In  His  Feet  and  Hands  are  Wound-prints, 

And  His  Side." 

Is  there  Diadem,   as  Monarch, 

That   His   Brow  ador; 
"  Yea,  a  Crown,  in  very  surety, — 
But  of  Thorns!" 

If  I  find  Him,  if  I  follow, 
What  His  guerdon  here? 
"  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor, 
Many  a  tear." 

If  I  still  hold  closely  to  Him, 

What  hath  He  at  la 
"  Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 
Jordan  past!" 

If  I  ask  Him  to  receive  me, 

Will  He  say  me  nay  ? 
"Not  till  earth,  and  not  till  heaven 
Pass  away  !" 

Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  He  sure  to  bit 
"Angels,  Martyrs,  Prophets,  Virgins, 
Answer,   Yes !" 

St.  Stephen  the  Sabaite. 

1Λ 


62  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


GOD  BLESSED   FOREVER. 

ol  τζαίοες  ευσέβεια. 

The  Holy  Children  boldly  stand 
Against  the  tyrant's  dread  command : 
The  kindled  furnace  they  defy, — 
No  doom  can  shake  their  constanc3T : 
They  in  the  midmost  flame  confessed, 
"God  of  our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 

The  Shepherds  keep  their  flocks  by  night ; 
The  Heaven  glows  out  with  wondrous  light ; 
The  glory  of  the  Lord  is  there, 
The  Angel-bands  their  King  declare : 
The  watchers  of   the  night  confessed, 
"God  of  our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 

The  Angel  ceased ;    and  suddenly 

Seraphic  legions  filled  the  sky : 

Glory  to  God,  they  cry  again  : 

Peace  upon  earth,  good  will  to  men  : 

Christ  comes ! — And  they  that  heard  confessed, 

"God  of  our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 


ΟΠ,    WOXDr.OO   MYSTEET. 

What  said  the  J?     "Let  us  turn 

This  new-born  miracle  to  learn." 

To  Bcthloh  ite  theu  -ps  drew: 

The  Mother  with  tin•  Child  they  view: 
They  knelt,  and  worshipped,  and  confessed, 
"God  of  our  Fathers!     Thou  art  blessed!" 

St.  Cosmas. 


OH,  WONDROUS   MYSTERY. 


On,  wondrous  mystery,  full  of  passing  grace ! 

The  grot  becometh  Heaven  :     the  Virgin's  breast 
The  bright  Cherubic  Throne  :    the  stall  that  place 
Where  lie,   Who  fills  all  space,  vouchsafes  to  rest : 
Christ  our  God,  to  Whom  we  raise 
Hymns  of  thankfulness  and  praise. 

The  course  propitious  of  the  unknown  Star 
The  Magi  followed  on  its  heavenly  way, 
Until  it  led  th<  »  from  afar, 

To  where  the  Christ,   the  King  of  all  things,   lay 
Him  in  Bethlehem  they  find, 
Born  the  Saviour  of  mankind. 

"^  iild."   I  ';. — "the  new-born   Κ 

Whose  herald-light   i-  glittering  in   the  sky, — 


64  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

To  Whom  our  offerings  and  our  praise  we  bring?" 
And  Herod's  heart  is  troubled  utterly. 
Armed  for  war  with  God,  in  vain 
Would  he  see  that  Infant  slain. 

St.  Cosmas. 


THAT  FEARFUL  DAY. 


TTjv   ημέραν   την   φριχτην. 


That  fearful  day,  that  day  of  speechless  dread, 
When  Thou  shalt  come  to  judge  the  quick  and  dead- 

I  shudder  to  foresee, 

Ο  God  !    what  then  shall  be  ! 

When  Thou  shalt  come,  angelic .  legions  round, 
With  thousand  thousands,  and  with  trumpet  sound ; 
Christ  grant  me  in  the  air 
With  saints  to  meet  Thee  there  ! 

Weep,  Ο  my  soul,  ere  that  great  hour  and  day, 
When  God  shall  shine  in  manifest  array, 

Thy  sin,  that  thou  mayst  be 

In  that  strict  judgment  free  ! 

The  terror  ! — hell-fire  fierce  and  unsufficed : 

The  bitter  worm :    the  gnashing  teeth  : — Ο  Christ, 

Forgive,  remit,  protect ; 

And  set  me  with  the  elect ! 


THAT    FEARFUL    DAY. 


That  Τ  may  hear  the  blessed  voire  that  calls 
The  righteous  to  the  joy  of  heavenly  halls, 
And,    King  of    Heaven,    may   reach 
The   realm   that    passeth   speech  ! 

Enter  Thou  not   in   judgment   with  each  deed. 
Nor  each  intent   and  thought   in  strictness  read  : 

Forgive,  and  save  me  then, 

0  Thou  that  lovest    men  ! 

Thee,  One  in  Three  blest  Persons  !     Lord  o'er  all  ' 
Essence  of  essence,   Power  of   power,   we  call  ! 

Save  us,  Ο  Father,  Son, 

And  Spirit,   ever  one  ! 

Theodore  of  the  Studium. 


it 


66  SOXGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ADAM'S   COMPLAINT. 

"The  Lord  my  Maker,  forming  me  of  clay, 

By  His  own  Breath  the  breath  of  life  conveyed  : 

O'er  all  the  bright  new  world  He  gave  me  sway,- 

A  little  lower  than  the  Angels  made. 

But  Satan,  using  for  his  guile 

The  crafty  serpent's  cruel  wile, 

Deceived  me  by  the  Tree ; 

And  severed  me  from  God  and  grace, 

And  wrought  me  death,  and  all  my  race, 

As  long  as  time  shall  be. 

Ο  Lover  of   the  sons  of   men  ! 

Forgive,  and  call  me  back  again  ! 

"  In  that  same  hour  I  lost  the   glorious  stole 

Of  innocence,  that  God's  own  Hands  had  made ; 

And  now,  the  tempter  poisoning  all  my  soul, 

I  sit  in  fig-leaves  and  in  skins  arrayed : 

I  sit  condemned,  distressed,  forsaken  ; 

Must  till  the  ground  whence  I  was  taken 

By  labour's  daily  sweat. 

But  Thou,  that  shalt  hereafter  come, 

The  offspring  of  a  Virgin-womb, 

Have  pity  on  me  yet ! 

Ο  turn  on  me  those  gracious  eyes, 

And  call  me  back  to  Paradise  ! 


ADAMs    COMPLAINT.  67 

* 

"0  glorious  Paradise!     0  lovely  clime  ! 

0  God-built  mansions  !     Joy  of  every  rfaint ! 

Happy  remembrance  to  all  coming  time ! 

Whisper,  with  all  thy  leaves,  in  cadence  faint, 

One  prayer  to  Him  Who  made  them  all, 

One  prayer  for  Adam  in  his  fall ! — 

That  He,   Who  formed  thy  gates  of  yore, 

Would  bid  those  gates  unfold  once  more 

That  I  had  closed  by  sin  : 

And  let  me  taste  that  holy  Tree 

That  giveth  immortality 

To  them  that  dwell  therein  ! 

Or  have  I  fallen  so  far  from  grace 

That  merry  hath  for  me  no  place0" 

Adam  sat  right  against  the   Eastern  cate, 

By  many  a  storm  of  sad  remembrance  tost : 

"Oli,  me!    so  ruined  by  the  serpent's  hate! 

Oh  me  !    so  glorious  once,  and  now  so  lost  ' 

So  mad  that  bitter  lot   to  choose  ! 

Beguiled  of  all  Τ  had  to  lose' 

Must  T.  then,  gladness  of  my  eyes, — 

Must  I,  then,   leave  thee,  Paradise, 

And  as  an  exile  go0 

And  must   Τ  never  cease  to  griev 

How  once  my  God,  at   cool  of  eve, 

Came  down  to  walk  below? 

ο  Merciful  I    on  Thee  I  call 

0  Pitiful!    forgive  my  fall''' 

ST.  THEOPHANEd. 


68  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


TRANSFIGURATION. 

χορός  ^Ισραήλ. 

The  choirs  of  ransomed  Israel, 

The  Red  Sea's  passage  o'er, 
Upraised  the  hymn  of  triumph 

Upon  the  farther  shore, 
And  shouted,  as  the  foeman 

Was  whelmed  beneath  the  sea, 
"Sing  we  to  Judah's  Saviour, 

For  glorified  is  He!" 

Amongst  His  Twelve  Apostles 

Christ  spake  the  Words  of   Life, 
And  showed  a  realm  of  beauty 

Beyond  a  world  of  strife : 
"When  all  my  Father's  glory 

Shall  shine  expressed  in  Me, 
Then  praise  Him,  then  exalt  Him, 

For  magnified  is  He  ! ' ' 

Upon  the  Mount  of   Tabor 
The  promise  was  made  good  ; 

When,  baring  all  the  Godhead. 
In  light  itself    He   stood: 


TRAN8FIGURATI»  69 

And  they,  in  awe  beholding, 
The  Apostolic  Three, 

Sang  out  to  God  their  Saviour, 
For  magnified  was  He ! 

In  days  of  old.  on  Sinai, 

The  Lord  of  Sabaoth  rain••. 
In  majesty  of  terror, 

In  thunder  cloud  and  flamo  : 
On  Tabor,  with  the  glory 

Of  sunniest  light  for  vest, 
The  excellence  of  beauty 

In  Jesus  was  expressed. 

All  hours  and   days   inclined  there, 

And   did   Thee   worship  meet; 
The  sun  himself  adored  Thee, 

And  bowed  him  at  Thy  feet : 
\\  aile  Moses  and  Elias 

Upon  the  Holy  Mount 
The  coeternal  gloi 

Of  our  God  recount. 

Oh,  holy,  wondrous  Vision! 

But  what.   when,   this  life  past, 
The  beauty  of   Mount  Tabor 

■ 

Shall  end  in  Heaven  at  last? 
But  what,   when  all  the  glory 

Of  ui.  -  light 

Shall  be  the  promised  guerdon 

Of   them  that  win  the  fight0 

COSMA.3. 
II 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Ο   FAITHFUL   CROSS! 

Ο  faithful  ceoss  !    Ο  noblest  tree  ! 
In  all  our  woods  there's  none  like  thee  : 
No  earthly  groves,   no  shady  bowers, 
Produce  such  leaves,  such  fruit,  such  flowers. 
Sweet  are  the  nails,  and  sweet  the  wood, 
That  bears  a  weight  so  sweet,   so  good. 

Sing,  Ο  my  tongue,  devoutly  sing 
The  glorious  laurels  of  our  King : 
Sing  the  triumphant  \Tictory 
Gained  on  the  cross  erected  high ; 
Where  man's  Redeemer  yields  his  breath. 
And,  dying,  conquers  hell  and  death. 

With  pity  our  Creator  saw 

His  noblest  work  transgress  his  law, 

When  our  first  parents  rashly  ate 

The  fatal  tree's  forbidden  meat ; 

He  then  resolved  the  cross's  wood 

Should  make  that  tree's   sad  damage  good. 

By  this  wise  method  God  designed 
From  sin  and  death  to  save  mankind ; 


0    FAITHFUL    CROSS!  71 

Superior  art   with  love  combii 

And  arts  of  Satan  countermin 

And  where  the  traitor  gave  the  wound, 

There  healing  remedies  are  found. 

When  the  full  time  decreed  above 
Was  come  to  show  this  work  of  love, 
Th'   Eternal  Father  Bends  his  Son, 
The  world's  Creator,   from   his  throne! 
"Who  on  our  earth,   this   vale   of    tear-, 
■    othed  with  a   virgins  flesh  appears. 

Thus  God,   made  man,   an   infant   lies, 
And  in  the  manger  weeping  cries; 
His  sacred  limbs,  by  Mary  hound, 
The  poorest  tattered  rags  surround  ; 
And  God's  incarnate  feet  and  hands 
Are  closely  bound  with   swathing  bands. 

Full  thirty  years  were  fully  spent 
In  this  our  mortal  banishment ; 
And  then  the  Son  of  Man,  decreed 
For  the  lo-  y>\    men  to  ble 

And  on  the  cross  a  victim  laid, 
The  solemn  expiation  mad• 

tiall  was  Ins  drink  ;    his  flesh  they  tear 
With  thorn-  and  nails  rue!  -pear 

Pi   re  -   h      -'(••.   from  whence  a  flood 
Streams  forth,  of   water  mixed  with  blood : 


72  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

With  what  a  tide  are  washed  again 
The  sinful  earth,  the  stars,  the  main  ! 

Bend,  towering  tree,  thy  branches  bend, 
Thy  native  stubbornness  suspend  : 
Let  not  stiff  nature  use  its  force  ; 
To  weaker  saps  have  now  recourse  : 
With  softest  arms  receive  thy  load, 
And  gently  bear  our  dying  God. 

On  thee  alone  the  Lamb  was  slain 

That  reconciled  the  world  again  ; 

And  when  on  raging  seas  was  tost 

The  shipwrecked  world  and  mankind  lost, 

Besprinkled  with  his  sacred  gore, 

Thou  safely  brought  them  to  the  shore. 

All  glory  to  the  sacred  Three, 

One  undivided  Deity : 

To  Father,   Holy  Ghost,  and  Son, 

Be  equal  praise  and  homage  done  : 

Let  the  whole  universe  proclaim 

Of   One  and  Three  the  glorious  Name. 


BURIAL    OF   THE    DEAD.  73 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Day  of  Wrath !    Oh,  day  of  mourning ! 
See  fulfilled  the  prophets'  warning ! 
Heaven  and  earth  in  ashes  burning ! 
Oh,  what  fear  man's  bosom  rendeth, 
When  from  heaven  the  Judge  descendeth, 
On  Whose  sentence  all  dependeth  ! 

Wondrous  sound  the  trumpet  flingeth, 
Through  earth's  sepulchres  it  ringeth, 
All  before  the  Throne  it  bringeth  ; 
Death  is  struck,  and  nature  quaking, 
All  creation  is  awaking, 
To  its  Judge  an  answer  making. 

Lo,  the  Book,  exactly  worded, 
Wherein  all  hath  been  recorded ! 
Thence  shall  judgment  be  awarded. 
When  the  Judge  His  seat  attaineth, 
And  each  hidden  deed  arraigneth, 
Nothing  unavenged  remaineth. 

18 


74 


SOXGS    OF    PEAISE. 


What  shall  I,  frail  man,  be  pleading, 
Who  for  me  be  interceding, 
When  the  just  are  mercy  needing? 
King  of   Majesty  tremendous, 
Who  dost  free  salvation  send  us, 
Fount  of  pity,  then  befriend  us ! 


Think,  good  Jesu,  my  salvation 
Caused  Thy  wondrous  Incarnation ; 
Leave  me  not  to  reprobation. 


BURIAL   OF   ΤΠΕ   DEAD. 

Faint  and  weary  Thou  hast  sought  me, 
On  the  Cross  of  suffering  bought  me : 
Shall  such  grace  be  vainly  brought  me? 

Righteous  Judge  !    for  sin's  pollution 
Grant  Thy  gift  of  absolution 
Ere  that  day  of  retribution. 
Guilty,  now  I  pour  my  moaning, 
All  my  shame  with  anguish  owning ; 
Spare,  Ο  God,  Thy  suppliant  groaning. 

Thou  the  sinful  woman  savedst; 
Thou  the  dvinn  thief  fonravest; 
And  to  me  a  hope  vouchsafest. 
Worthless  are  my  prayers  and  sighing  : 
Yet,  good  Lord,  in  grace  complying, 
Rescue  me  from  fires  undying. 

With  thy  favored  sheep,  oh,  place  me, 
Kor  among  the  goats  abase  me ; 
But  to  Thy  right  hand  upraise  me. 
While  the  wicked  are  confounded, 
Doomed  to  flames  of  woe  unbounded, 
Call  me,  with  Thv  saints  surrounded. 


Low  I  kneel,  with  heart-submission ; 
See  like  ashes  my  contrition ; 
Help  me  in  my  lost  condition. 


76, 


SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


Ah !  that  day  of  tears  and  mourning ! 
From  the  dust  of   earth  returning, 
Man  for  judgment  must  prepare  him ; 
Spare,  Ο  God,  in  mercy,  spare  him ! 
Lord  all-pitying,  Jesu  blest, 
Grant  him  Thine  eternal  rest. 


DREAD  FEAMEE  OF  THE  EARTH.  77 


DREAD  FRAMER  OF  THE  EARTH. 

JEtcrne  rcrum  conditor. 

Dread  Feamee  of  the  earth  and  sky, 
Who  dost  the  light  and  darkness  give, 

And  all  the  cheerful  change  supply 
Of  alternating  morn  and  eve  ! 

Light  of  the  midnight  traveller ! 

Who  dost  divide  the  day  from  night ! — 
Loud  crows  the  dawn's  shrill  harbinger, 

And  wakens  up  the  sunbeams  bright. 

Forthwith .  at  this  the  darkness  chill 
Retreats  before  the  star  of  morn ; 

And  from  their  busy  schemes  of  ill 
The  vagrant  crews  of    night  return. 

Fresh  hope  at  this  the  sailor  chei 
The  waves  their  stormy  strife  allay  ; 

The  Church's  Rock  at  this,   in  tears, 
Hastens  to  wash  his  guilt  away. 

■  ye,  then,  with  one   accord  ! 
Nor  longer  wrapt  in  slumber  lie ; 

20 


78 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


The  cock  rebukes  all  who  their  Lord 
By  sloth  neglect,  by  sin  deny. 


At  his  clear  cry  joy  springs  afresh ; 

Health  courses  through  the  sick  man's  veins 
The  dagger  glides  into  its  sheath' ; 


The  fallen  soul  her  faith  regains. 


SUNDAY.  79 

Jesu,   look  on  us  when   we  fall  :  — 

One  momentary  glance  of  Thine 
Can  from  her  guilt  the  soul  recall 

To  tears  of  penitence  divine. 

Awake  us  from  false  sleep  profound, 

And  through  our  senses  pour  Thy  light ; 

Be  Thy  blest  Name  the  first  we  sound 
At  early  dawn,. the  last  at  night. 

To  God  Father  glory  be, 

And  to   Eia  sole-begotten  Son; 
The  same,  Ο  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 

While  everlasting  agea  run. 


*6       i-3v 


Caswall. 


SUNDAY. 

Prima  die  quo   Trinitas. 

Tins  day  the  blessed  Trinity 

The  univ<  ι 
This  day  I  Creator  r< 

O'ercoming  deatl  an. 

ill  sloth  nv 
Y\  e  too  will  ι  lit, 

And,   with  the  Pre;  Lord 

re  the  dawning  liiiht. 


80 


SO^GS    OF    PRAISE. 


So  may  He  stretch  His  hand  to  save, 

And  hear  us  in  His  love, 
And,  cleansed  from  guilt,  our  souls  restore 

To  their  blest  home  above. 


Bo,  while  on  this  His  holy  Day, 
At  this  most  sacred  hour, 


SUNDAY.  81 

Our  psalms  amid  the  stillness  rise, 
May  He  His  blessings  shower. 

Father  of  lights  !    keep  us  this  day 

From  sinful  passions  free ; 
Grant  us,  in  every  word,  and  deed, 

And  thought,   to  honor  Thee. 

Thou  Lord  of   chastity  divine  I 

Grant  us  the  grace  to  quell 
Those  flames  impure  which,  cherished  here, 

Increase  the  flames  of   hell. 

Saviour,  of  Thy  sweet  clemency 

Wash  Thou  our  sins  away  ; 
Grant  us  Thy  peace, — grant  us  with  Thee 

The  joys  of  endless  day. 

Father  of  mercies,  hear  our  cry  ; 

Hear  us,   coequal  Son, 
"Who  reignest  with  the  Holy  Ghost, 


While  ceaseless  ages  run. 


Caswall. 


21 


82  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  PASSION. 

Moerentes  oculi  spargite  lachrymas. 

Now  let  us  sit  and  weep, 
And  fill  our  hearts  with  woe ; 
Pondering  the  shame  and  torments  deep 
Which  God  from  wicked  men  did  undergo. 

See  how  the  multitude, 
With  swords  and  staves,  draw  nigh ; 
See  how  they  smite,  with  buffets  rude, 
That  Head  divine  of  awful  majesty : 

How,  bound  with  cruel  cord, 
Christ  to  the  scourge  is  given ; 
And  ruffians  lift  their  hands,  unawed, 
Against  the  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  Heaven  ! 

Hear  it,  ye  people,  hear ! 
Our  good  and  gracious  God, 
Silent  beneath  the  lash  severe, 
Stands  with  His  sacred  shoulders  drenched  in  blood. 


0    BLEST   CREATOR.  83 

Oh,  scene  for  tears  I    but  now 
The  sinful  race  contrive 
A  torment   new  :    deep  in  His  brow. 
With  all  their  force,  the  jagged  thorns  they  drive. 

Then,  roughly  dragged  to  death, 
Christ  on  the  Cross  is  slain. 
And,  as  He  dies,  with  parting  breath, 
Into  His  Father's  hands  gives  hack  His  soul  again. 

To  Him  who  so  much   bore 
To  gain  for  sinners  grar 
Be  praise  and  glory  evermore 
From  the  whole  universal   human  race. 

Caswall. 


Ο  BLEST  CREATOR. 

JRerum  Creator  optime. 

Ο  blest  Creator  of  the  world, 
Look  in  Thy   pity  down  ; 

Nor  let  the  guilty  sleep  of  sin 
Our  souls  in  torpor  drown 

Lord  of  all  holiness,  may  we 
Find  mercy  in  Thy  sight ! 

Who,  to  set  forth  Thy  glory,  rise 
Before  the  morning  light. 


84 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Who,  as  the  holy  Psalmist  bids, 
Our  hands  thus  early  raise ; 

And  in  the  midnight  sing  with  Paul 
And  Silas  hymns  of  praise. 


Jesu,  to  Thee  our  deeds  we  show, 
To  Thee  our  hearts  lie  bare ; 


NOW    WITH    TUK    RISING    GOLDEN    DAWN. 

Oh,  hearken  to  the  sighs  we  pour, 
And  in  Thy  mercy  8] 

Father  of  mercies,  hear  our  cr 

Hear  us,  coequal  Son, 
Who  reignest  with  the  Holy  Ghost 

While  ceaseless  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


NOW   WITH   Till•    I:IS1X<;    (ioLI)EX    DAWN. 

Lux  ecce  surgit  aurea. 

Now  with  the  rising  golden  dawn, 
Let  us,  the  children  of   the  day, 

off  tin•  darkness  which  so  long 
Has  led  our  guilty  souls  astray. 

Oh,   may  the   morn,   bo  pure,   so  clear. 
Its  own  eweet   calm  in  us  instil  ' — 

A  guileless  mind,  a  bear!  sincere, 
Simplicity  of   word  and  will  : 

And  ever,  as  the  day  glides  by, 
May  we  tin•  Ihi-•.  in  ; 

Keep  guard  upon  the  hand  and  eyi 
Noi    lei    I  be  body  suffer  stain  ' 

22 


86  SOSGS    OF    PRAISE. 

For,  all  day  long,  on  Heaven's  high  tower 
There  stands  a  Sentinel,  wlio  spies 

Our  every  action,  hour  by  hour, 
From  early  dawn  till  daylight  dies. 

To  God  the  Father  glory  be, 
And  to  His  sole-begotten  Son ; 

The  same,  Ο  Holy  Ghost,  to  Thee, 
While  everlasting  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


HIS  SACRED  FEET. 

Maria  castis  osculis. 


His  sacred  feet  with  tears  of  agony 
She  bathes  ;    and  prostrate  on  the  earth  adores ; 
Steeps  them  in  kisses  chaste,  and  wipes  them  dry 
With  her  own  hair ;  then  forth  her  precious  ointment  pours 

Praise  in  the  highest  to  the  Father  be  ; 
Praise  to  the  mighty  coeternal  Son ; 
And  praise,  Ο  Spirit  Paraclete,  to  Thee, 
While  ages  upon  everlasting  ages  run. 

Caswall. 


ΗΥΜΒ    1ΌΕ   0ONF1EMATION.  81 


HYMN  FOR  CONFIRMATION. 

My  God,  accept  my  heart  this  day, 
And  make  it  always  Thine, — 

That  I  from  Thee  no  more  may  stray. 
Xo  more  from  Thee  decline. 

Before  the  cross  of   Him  who  died. 

Behold,   I  prostrate  fall : 
Let  every  sin  be  crucified, — 

Let  Christ  be  all  in  all ! 

Anoint  mo  with  Thy  heavenly  grace, 
Adopt  me  for  Thine  own, — 

That  I  may  see  Thy  glorious  face 
And  worship  at  Thy  thr 

the  dear  blood,  once  shed  for  me, 
My  bleat  atonement   prove, — 
That  I  from  first   to  last   may  be 
The  purchase  of  Thy  k• 

Let  every   thought,   and   work,   and   -. 

To  Thee  be  ever  given  : 
Then  life  shall  be  Tl  1. 

And   death   th 

B: 


88 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


sssi^ 


SUNDAY   MORNING. 


Ad  templet,  nos  rursus  vocat. 


Again  the  Sunday  morn 
Calls  us  to  prayer  and  praise, 
Waking  our  hearts  to  gratitude 
With  its  enlivening  rays. 


SUNDAY    MOBNIHG.  89 

But  Christ  yet  brighter  shone, 
Quenching  the  morning  beam, 
When  triumphing  from  death  He  rose, 
And  raised  us  up  with  Him. 

When  first  the  world  sprang  forth. 
In  majesty  arrayed, 
And  bathed  in  streams  of  purest  light, 
What  power  was  there  displayed ! 

But,  oh,  what  love  !    when  Christ, 
For  our  transgressions  slain,     . 
Was  by  th'  Eternal  Father  raised 
For  us  to  life  again! 

His  new-created  world 
The  mighty  Maker  viewed, 
With  thousand  lovely  tints  adorned. 
And  straight  pronounced   it  good. 

But,  oh,  much  more  He  joyed 
That  selfsame  world  to  see 
W   -heel  in  the  Lamb's  all-saving  Blood 
From  it?  impurity. 

Nature  each  day  renew- 
Her  beauty  evermore  ; 
Whence  to  God's  bidden  Majesty 
The  soul   is  taught  to  so 

23 


90  SOSGS    OF    PRAISE. 


But  Christ,  the  Light  of  all, 
The  Father's  Image  blest, 
Gives  us  to  see  our  God  Himself 
In  Flesh  made  manifest. 

Blest  Trinity,  vouchsafe 
That,  to  thy  guidance  true, 
"What  Thou  forbiddest  we  may  shun ; 
What  Thou  commandest,  do. 

Caswall. 


THE  ASCEXSIOX 


Why  is  thy  face  so  lit  with  smiles, 

Mother  of  Jesus,  why? 
And  wherefore  is  thy  beaming  look 

So  fixed  upon  the  sky  ? 

From  out  thine  overflowing  eyes 
Bright  lights  of   gladness  part, 

As  though  some  gushing  fount  of  joy 
Had  broken  in  thy  heart. 

Mother,  how  canst  thou  smile  to-day  ? 

How  can  thine  eyes  be  bright, 
When  He,  thy  Life,  thy  Love,  thine  All, 

Hath  vanished  from  thy  sight? 


THE    ASCENSION.  91 

His  rising  form  on  Olivet 

A  summer's  shadow  cast ; 
The  branches  of  the  hoary  trees 

Drooped  as  the  shadow  passed. 

And  as  He  rose,  with  all  his  train 

Of  righteous  souls  around, 
His  blessing  fell  into  thine  heart, 

Like  dew  into  the  ground. 

Down  stooped  a  silver  cloud  from  heaven, 

The  Eternal  Spirit's  car. 
And  on  the  lessening  vision  went, 

Like  some  receding  star. 

Ο 

The  silver  cloud  hath  sailed  away, 

The  skies  are  blue  and  free ; 
The  road  that  vision  took  is  now 

Sunshine  ami  vacancy. 

The  Feet  which  Thou  hast  kissed  so  oft. 

Tho-e  living  Foot,  are  gone  ; 
Mother,  thou  canst  but  stoop  and  kiss 

Their  print  upon  the  stone. 

He  loved  the   Flesh  thou  gavest  Him. 

Because  it  was   from   thee; 

oved  it,  for  it  gave  Him  power 
To  bleed  and  die  for  me. 


92  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 

That  flesh  with  its  five  witness  Wounds 
Unto  His  throne  He  bore, 

For  God  to  love,  and  spirits  blest 
To  worship  evermore. 

Yes !    He  hath  left  thee,  Mother  dear ; 
His  throne  is  far  above ; 

How  canst  thou  be  so  full  of  joy- 
When  thou  hast  lost  thy  Love  ? 

Oh,  surely  earth's  poor  sunshine  now 
To  thee  mere  gloom  appears, 

When  He  is  gone  who  was  its  Light 
For  Three-and-Thirty  Years. 

Why  do  not  thy  sweet  hands  detain 
His  Feet  upon  their  way  ? 

Oh,  why  doth  not  the  Mother  speak 
And  bid  her  Son  to  stay? 

Ah,  no !    thy  love  is  rightful  love, 
From  all  self-seeking•  free  ; 

The  change  that  is  such  gain  to  Him 
Can  be  no  loss  to  thee. 

'Tis  sweet  to  feel  our  Saviour's  love, 

To  feel  His  presence  near 
Yet  loyal  love  His  glory  holds 

A  thousand  times  more  dear. 


MARY    MAGDALEN. 

Who  would  have  known  the  way  to  love 

Our  Jesus  as  we  ought, 
If  thou  in  varied    joy  and  woe 

Hadst  not  that  lesson  taught? 

Ah  !    never  is  our  love  so  pure 

ka  when  refined  by  pain, 
Or  when  God's  glory  upon  earth 

Finds  in  our  loss  its  gain  ! 

Faber. 


MARY   MAGDALEN. 


To  the  hall  of   that  feast  came  the  sinful  and  fair ; 
She  heard  in  the  city  that  Jesus  was  there; 
She  marked  not  the  splendor  that  blazed  on  their  board; 
Rut  silently  knelt  at  the  feet  of  her  Lord. 

The  hair  from  her  forehead,  so  sad  and  so  meek, 
Huns;  dark  o'er  the  blushes  that  burned  on  her  cheek  ; 
And  so  still  and  so  lowly  Bhe  bent  in  her  shame, 
It  seemed  as  her  spirit  had  flown  from  its  frame. 

The  frown  and  the  murmur  went  round  through  them  all. 
That  one  so  unhallowed  should  tread  in  that  hall ; 
And  some  said  the  poor  would  be  objects  more  meet 
For  the  wealth  of  the  perfumes  she  showered  at  his  feet. 

24 


94  SOXGS    OF    PRAISE. 

She  marked  but  her  Saviour,  she  sooke  but  in  sighs, 
She  dared  not  look  up  to  the  heaven  of   his  eyes ; 
And  the  hot  tears  gushed  forth  at  each  heave  of  her  breast, 
As  her  lips  to  his  sandals  she  throbbingly  pressed. 

On  the  cloud  after  tempests  as  shineth  the  bow, 
In  the  glance  of  the  sunbeam,  as  melteth  the  snow, 
He  looked  on  that  lost  one, — her  sins  were  forgiven, 
And  Mary  went  forth  in  the  beauty  of  heaven. 

Callanan. 


JERUSALEM  THE  GOLDEN. 

Jerusalem  the  golden, 

With  milk  and  honey  blest : 

Beneath  thy  contemplation 

Sink  heart  and  voice  oppressed. 

I  know  not,  oh,  I  know  not 
What  joys  await  us  there ; 

What  radiancy  of  glory, 

What  bliss  beyond  compare. 

They  stand,  those  halls  of  Sion, 

All  jubilant  with  song, 
And  bright  with  many  an  angel, 

And  all  the  martyr  throng : 


JERUSALEM   ΤΠΕ   GOLDEN.  95 

The  Prince  is  ever  in  them, 

The  daylight  is  serene ; 
The  pastures  of  the  blessed 

Are  decked  in  glorious  sheen. 

There  is  the  throne  of  David ; 

And  there,  from  care  released, 
The  shout  of  them  that  triumph, 

The  song  of  them  that  feast ; 

And  they,  who  with  their  Leader 

Have  conquered  in  the  fight, 
Forever  and  forever 

Are  clad  in  robes  of  white. 

Oh,  sweet  and  blessed  country, 

The  Home  of  God's  elect ! 
Oh,  sweet  and  blessed  country, 

That  eager  hearts  expect ! 

Jesu,  in  mercy  bring  us 

To  that  dear  land  of  rest, 
"Who  art,  with  God  the  Father. 

And  Spirit,  ever  blest. 


96 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


PRAYER  OF   THE   CONTRITE  SINNER. 


Have  mercy  Thou,  most  gracious  God, 
And  my  remittance  sign ; 


PEAYEB   OF   THE   CONTRITE   BINNEB.  97 

The  more  Thy  mercy  shall  accord, 
The  greater  glory  Thine. 

Thou  surely  hast   not  said  in  vain  : 

"  More  joy  in  heaven  is  made 
For  the  lost  sheep  that's  found  again, 

Than  those  which  never  strayed." 

Selped  by  Thy  grace,  no  more  I'll  stray, 

No  more  resist  Thy  voice; 
Where  Thou,  good  Shepherd,  tead'st  the  way, 

That  way  shall  be  my  choice. 

Too  long,  alas  !    my  wandering  feet 
The  crooked  paths  have  trod  ; 

Henceforth   I'll   follow,  as  is  meet, 
The  sure  unerring  road. 


Ό 


If  casual   Balls  retard  my  jiace, 
With  speed  again  I'll  rise, 

With  speed  I'll  reassume  my  race, 
Ami  run  and  gain   the  prize 

All  praise,  I )  Lord,  to  Thee  alone, 

Below,   as    'tis  above  : 
And  may  Thy  joys,   Eternal  I 

Both  draw  and  crown  my  love ! 


20 


98  SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 


ROCK  OF  AGES. 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me, 

Let  me  hide  myself   in  Thee ; 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 

From  Thy  wounded  side  which  flowed, 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure  ; 

Save  from  wrath  and  make  me  pure. 

In  my  hand  no  price  I  bring, 
Simply  to  Thy  Cross  I  cling ; 
Naked,   come  to  Thee  for  dress, 
Helpless,  look  to  Thee  for  grace, 
Foul,   I  to  the  Fountain  fly  ; 
Wash  me,  Saviour,  or  I  die. 

While  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath, 
When  my  eyes  shall  close  in  death, 
When  I  rise  to  worlds  unknown, 
And  behold  Thee  on  Thy  throne, 
Rock  of   Ages,  cleft  for  me, 
Let  me  hide  myself   in  Thee. 

Toplady. 


ROCK    OF    AGES. 

As   many  of  our  readers   may  not   be    familiar    with  Mr.  Glad- 
stone's Latin  version  of  the  hymn,  "  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 
we  subjoin  it.      It  is  given  in  a  paper  entitled  "Mr.  Gladstone 
a  Hymnologist :" — 

Jesus,  pro  me  perforatue, 
Condar  intra  Tuum  latus. 
Tu  per  lympham  profluentem. 
Tu  per  sanguinem  tepentem, 
Impeccati  mi  redunda, 
Tolle  culpam,  sordes  munda. 

Coram  Te,  nee  Justus  forem 
Quanivis  tota   vi  lal)orem, 
Nee  si  fide  nunquam  cesso, 
Fletu  stilliins  indefesso 
Tibi  soli  tantum  munus  : 
Salva  me,  Salvator  unus ! 

Nil  in  manu  mecum  fero, 
Sed  me  versus  Crucem  gero ; 
Vestimenta  nudus  oro. 
Opem  debilis  imploro ; 
Fontem  Christi  qu»ro  immundus, 
-i  Laves,  moribundus. 

Dum  hos  artus  vita  regil  ; 
Quando  nox   sepulchro  t• 
Mortuos  cum  Btare  jutx 
Bedena  Judex  inter  Qufo 
is,  pro  me  perforatue, 
Condar  intra  Tuum   latus. 


100 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ST.  FRANCIS  XAVIER. 

Lo !    on  the  slope  of  yonder  shore 
Beneath  that  lonely  shed, 

A  saint  hath  found  his  conflicts  o'er, 
And  laid  his  dying  head ! 


No  gloom  of   fear  hath  glazed  his  eye, 
For,  though  loud  billows  roll, 

The  Aurora  of  Eternity 
Is  rising  on  his  soul. 


ST.   FRANCIS    XAVIEE  I  < » I 

The  glorious  Saviour  of   bis   love 

Receives  him  in   His  arms, 
And  bears  him,   like  a  ransomed  dove, 

Away   from   all  alarm.-  ' 

<  liampion   of   Jesus,   man   of   <  rod, 

vant    of    Christ,    well    don 
Thy   path  of   thorns  hath   now   beeu   trod, 
Thy   red  cross  crown   is  won  ! 

O'er  the  wide  waste1  of   watery  wav 

\ii'l  leagues  on  leagues  of  land, 
Amidst  a  wilderness  of  gravi 

With   death   on   every   hand, 

1  le    (lew   to   WOO  and   win  a    world ; 

That    men    might    kiss   the    feel 
Of    llim  whose  banner  he  unfurled, — 

Father, — Son, — Paraclete. 

Eis  tongue,  the  Spirit's  two-edged  eword, 

I  [ad  magic  in  its  blade  ; 
For,  while  it   smote  with  every  word. 

It   healed    the    wounds   it    mad'•  ' 


lli>  lips  were  love,  his  touch  was  power, 
His  thoughts  were  vivid  flame, — 

The    flushes   of    a    thunder-shower — 
Where'er,  or  when  they  came! 


102  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Around  him  shone  the  light  of  life, 
Before  him  darkness  fell : — 

Satan  receded  from  the  strife, 
And  sought  his  native  hell ! 

Yet  who  so  humbly  walked  as  he, 
A  conqueror  in  the  field, 

Wreathing  the  rose  of  victory 
Around  his  radiant  shield  ?  ' 

As  silvery  clouds,  at  eventide, 
Float  on  the  balmy  gale, 

Nor  seem  to  heed  the  stars  they  hide 
Behind  their  fleecy  veil, 

So  lowly  sense  of  slightest  worth 
Fresh  graces  o'er  him  threw ; 

For  he  unconscious  lived  on  earth 
Of  all  the  praise  he  drew  ! 

Champion  of  Jesus,  on  that  breast 
From  whence  thy  fervor  flowed, 

Thou  hast  obtained  eternal  rest, 
The  bosom  of  thy  God  ! 

Brydges. 


I 


IN    ME.MOIUAM.  L03 


IN  MEMORIAM. 

I  saw  two  flowers  at  morning: 

The  one  was  a  full-blown  ros 
Ami  it   lay  at  rest  on  a  matron's  breast, 

Like  a  gleam  from  the  sunset  close. 
The  other  an  opening  rose-bud, 

As  white  as  the  sea-washed  pearl; 
And  it  gra  aid  masses  of  dark-brown  hair. 

The  head  of  a  beautiful  girl. 
And  the  flowers  were  types  of  these  lovely  oi. 

it  mother  and  daughter  fair, 
Sending  al»road,  o'er  life's  arid  road, 

Sweet   perfume  everywhi  ι 

I   saw  two  graves  at  even, 

Mid  the  fading  light  of  day ; 
And  there,  at  the  head  of   the  cherished  de;ni. 

The  morning  flowerets  lay. 
And  I  cried,   "  Ο  gentle  flowers, 

Are  those  beautiful  ones  beneath? 
1  bo  bright  and  so  lovely 

Feel  the  withering  grasp  of   Death?" 
"  Not   -o,  not  so,"  said  the  flowers; 

"  Tis  but  dust  bemath  this  sod; 
For  the  holy  souls  on  the  sunset  ray 

W<  *  •    up  to  the  bosom  of   <  tod  \" 

H    Coppr.E. 


104 


SOX  OS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  SINGERS. 

God  sent  His  Singers  upon  earth 
With  songs  of   sadness  and  of   mirth, 
That  they-'  might  touch  the  hearts  of   men 
And  bring  them  back  to  heaven  again. 


The  first,  a  youth,  with  soul  of  fire, 
Held  in  his  hand  a  golden  lyre  ; 


THE    SINGERS.  I1  ;'• 

Through  groves  he  wandered,  and  by  etreams, 
Playing  the  music  of  our  dreams. 

The  second,  with  a  bearded  face, 
Stood  singing  in  the  market-place, 
And  stirred  with  accents  deep  and  loud 
The  hearts  of  all  the  listening  crowd. 

A  gray  old  man,  the  third  and  last, 
Sang  in  cathedrals  dim  and  vast, 
While  the  majestic  organ  rolled 
Contrition  from  its  mouths  of  gold. 

And  those  who  heard  the  Singers  three 
Disputed  which  the  best  rflight  be ; 
For  still  their  music  seemed  to  start 
Discordant  echoes  in  each  heart. 

But  the  great  Master  said,  "  I  see 

No  best  in  kind,   but  in  degree  : 

I  gave  a  various  gift  to  each, — 

To  charm,  to  strengthen,   and  to  teach. 

"These  are  the  three  great  chords  of  might; 

i  he  whose  ear  is  tuned  aright 
Will  hear  no  discord  in  the  thn 
But  the  most  perfect  harmony." 

Longfellow 


27 


106 


SONiJS   OF   PKAISE. 


THE  SLEEP. 

"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." — Ps.  cxxvii.  2. 

Of  all  the  thoughts  of  God  that  are 
Borne  inward  unto  souls  afar 
Along  the  Psalmist's  music  deep, 
Now  tell  me  if  that   any  is, 
For  gift  or  grace,  surpassing  this: — 
"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep!" 


THE   BLEEP.  101 

What  would  we  give  to  our  beloved? 
The  hero's  heart,  to  be  unmoved, 
The  poet's  star-tuned  harp,  to  ewe<  p, 
The  patriot's  voice,  to  teach  and  rou 
The  monarch's  crown,  to  light  the  brows0 — 
■  I  [e  giveth  His  beloved  eleep." 

What  do  we  give  to  our  1"  loved? 

A  little  faith  all  undisproved, 

A  little  dust  to  overweep, 

And  bitter  memories  to  make 

The  whole  earth  blasted  for  our  sake. 

"  Ee  giveth   His  beloved  sleep." 

"Sleep  soft,  beloved!"    we  sometimes  say, 

But  have  no  tune  to  charm  away 

Sad  dreams  that  through   the  eyelids  creep, 

But  never  doleful  dream  again 

Shall  break  the  happy  slumber,  when 

"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

Ο  earth,  so  full  of  dreary  q< 
Ο  men,  with  wailing  in  your  voi 
Ο  delve'd  gold,  the  wailers  heap  I 

Ο  strife,  Ο  curse,  that  o'er  it    fall ! 
God  strikes  a  silence  through  vou  all, 
And  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep 

His  dews  drop  mutely  on  the  hill; 
cloud  above  it  saileth  still, 


108  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Though  on  its  slope  men  sow  and  reap. 
More  softly  than  the  dew  is  shed, 
Or  cloud  is  floated  overhead, 
"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

Ay,  men  may  wonder  while  they  scan 
A  living,  thinking,  feeling  man 
Confirmed  in  such  a  rest  to  keep ; 
But  angels  say, — and  through  the  word 
I  think  their  happy  smile  is  heard, — 
"He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

For  me,  my  heart,  that  erst  did  go 
Most  like  a  tired  child  at  a  show, 
That  sees  through  tears  the  mummers  leap, 
Would  now  its  wearied  vision  close, 
Would  childlike  on  His  love  repose 
Who  "giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

And,  friends,  dear  friends,  when  it  shall  be 
That  this  low  breath  is  gone  from  me, 
And  round  my  bier  ye  come  to  weep, 
Let  One,  most  loving  of  you  all, 
Say,   "  Not  a  tear  must  o'er  her  fall : 
'He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep.'' 

Mrs.  Browning. 


THE    SOUL-DIRGE.  100 


THE  SOUL-DIRGE. 

The  organ  played  sweei  music 

Whileas,  od  Easter-day, 
All  heartless  from  the  altar 

The  heedless  went  away  ; 
And,  down  the  broad  aisle  crowding, 

They  Beemed  a  Funeral  train, 
Thai  were  burying  their  epirits 

To  the  music  of   that   strain. 

As  I  listened  to  the  organ, 

And  saw  them  crowd  along, 
Ϊ  thought    I   heard  two  voices 

Speaking  strangely,  but  nol  strong 

And  one,  it  whispered  sadly, 

Will  ye  also  go  away  ? 
Bui   the  other  spoke  exulting, 

Ha!    the  soul-dirge, — hear  it   play! 

Hear  the  soul-dirge !    hear  the  soul-dirge  ' 

And  see  the  feast  divine ! 
I  la  !    the   jewels  of  salvation, 

And  the  trampling  feet  of   swine! 

28 


110  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Hear  the  soul-dirge  !   hear  the  soul-dirge 
Little  think  they,  as  they  go, 

What  priceless  pearls  they  tread  on, 
Who  spurn  their  Saviour  so ! 

Hear  the  soul-dirge !    hear  the  soul-dirge 

It  was  dread  to  hear  it  play, 
While  the  Famishing  went  crowding 

From  the  Bread  of  Life  away : 
They  were  bidden,  they  were  bidden 

To  their  Father's  festal  board  ; 
But  they  all,  with  gleeful  faces, 

Turned  their  back  upon  the  Lord. 

You  had  thought  the  church  a  prison, 

Had  you  seen  how  they  did  pour 
With  giddy,  giddy  faces, 

From  the  consecrated  door. 
There  was  angels'  food  all  ready, 

But  the  bidden— where  were  they? 
O'er  the  highways  and  the  hedges, 

Ere  the  soul-dirge  ceased  to  play ! 

Oh,  the  soul-dirge,  how  it  echoed 

The  emptied  aisles  along, 
As  the  open  street  grew  crowded 

With  the  full  outpouring  throng ! 
And  then — again  the  voices; 

Ha  !    the  soul-dirge  !   hear  it  play  ! 
And  the  pensive,  pensive  whisper, 

Will  ye  also  go  away? 


THE    SOUL-DIRGE.  Ill 

Few,  few  were  they  thru  lingered 

To  sup  with  Jesus  there ; 
And  yet,  for  all  that  spurned  Him 

There  was  plenty,  and  to  spare  ! 

And  now,  the  food  of  angels 

Uncovered  to  my  sight, 
All-glorious  was  the  altar. 

And  the  chalice  glittered  bright. 

Then  came  the  hymn  Trisagion, 

And  rapt  me  up  on  high, 
With  angels  and  archangels 

O  D 

To  laud  and  magnify. 
I  seemed  to  feast  in  Heaven ; 

And  downward  wafted  then, 
With  angels  chauntino;  round  me, 

Good  will  and  peace  to  men. 

I  may  not  tell  the  rapture 

Of  a  banquet  so  divine ; 
Ho !  every  one  that  thirtieth, 

Let  him  taste  the  bread  and  wine  ! 
Hear  the  Bride  and  Spirit  saying, 

Will  ye  also  go  away '? 
Or — go,  poor  soul,  forever  ! 

Oh,  the  soul-dirge — hear  it  play  ' 

A.  Cleveland  Coxe. 


112 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


JAIRUS'   DAUGHTER. 


Freshly  the  cool  breath  of  the  coming  eve 
Stole  through  the  lattice,  and  the  dying  girl 


JAIRUS'    DAUGHTER.  113 

Felt  it  upon  her  forehead.     She  had  lain 

Since  the  hot  noontide  in  a  breathless  Iran 

Her  thin,  pale  fingers  clasped  within  the  hand 

Of  the  heart-broken  Ruler,  and  her  br< 

Like  the  dead  marble,  white  and  motionl•     . 

The  shadow  of  a  leaf   lay  on  her  lips, 

And,  as  it  stirred  with  the  awakening  wind, 

The  dark  lids  lifted  from  her  languid  ey 

And  her  slight  fingers  moved,  and  heavily 

She  turned  upon  her  pillow.     He  was  there, — 

The  same  loved,  tireless  watcher,  and  she  looked 

Into  his  face  until  her  sight  grew  dim 

With  the  fast-falling  tears,  and,  with  a  sigh 

Of  tremulous  weakness,  murmuring  his  name. 

She  gently  drew   his  hands  upon  her  lips, 

And  kissed   it   as  ehe  wept.     The  old  man  sunk 

Upon  his  knees,  and  in  the  drapery 

Of   the  rich  curtains  buried  up  his  G 

And  when  the  twilight  fell,  the  silken  folds 

Stirred  with  his  prayer;  but  the  elight   hand  he   held 

I  hid  ceased  its  pressure,  and  In•  could  not  hear. 

In  the  dead,  utter  silence,  that  a  breath 

Came  through  her  nostrils,  and  her  temples  gave 

To  1  touch  no  pulse,  and  at   her  mouth 

held  the  lightest   curl  that  on  her  neck 
Lay   with  a   mocking  beauty,   and   his  gaze 

id   with   it-  deathly  stilln 

It    was   night. 
And  softly  o'er  th<     I       of   (jalilce 

eed  the  breeze-ridden   ripples  to  the  shore, 

20 


114  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Tipped  with  the  silver  sparkles  of  the  moon. 
The  breaking  waves  played  low  upon  the  beach 
Their  constant  music,  but  the  air  beside 
Was  still  as  starlight,  and  the  Saviour's  voice, 
In  its  rich  cadences  unearthly  sweet, 
Seemed  like  some  just-born  harmony  in  the  air, 
Waked  by  the  power  of  wisdom.     On  a  rock, 
With  the  broad  moonlight  falling  on  His  brow, 
He  stood  and  taught  the  people.     At  His  feet 
Lay  His  small  scrip,  and  pilgrim's  scallop  shell, 
And  staff;    for  they  had  waited  by  the  sea 
Till  He  came  o'er  from  Gadarene,  and  prayed 
For  His  wont  teachings  as  He  came  to  land. 
His  hair  was  parted  meekly  on  His  brow, 
And  the  long  curls  from  off  His  shoulders  fell 
As  He  leaned  forward  earnestly,  and  still 
The  same  calm  cadence,  passionless  and  deep, 
And  in  His  looks  the  same  mild  majesty, 
And  in  His  mien  the  sadness  mixed  with  power, 
Filled  them  with  love  and  wonder. 

Suddenly, 
As  on  His  words  entrancedly  they  hung, 
The  crowd  divided,  and  among  them  stood 
Jairus  the  Ruler.     With  his  flowing  robe 
Gathered  in  haste  about  his  loins,  he  came, 
And  fixed  his  eyes  on  Jesus.     Closer  drew 
The  twelve  disciples  to  their  Master's  side. 
And  silently  the  people  shrunk  away, 
And  left  the  haughty  Ruler  in  the  midst 
Alone.     A  moment  longer  on  the  face 


JAIIU's'    DAUGHTER.  1  15 

Of  the  meek  Nazarene  he  kepi  his  gaze, 

And  as  the  twelve  looked  od  him,  by  the  light 

Of  the  clear  moon,  they  saw  a  glistening 

Steal  to  his  silver  beard,  and,  drawing  nigh 

Unto  the  Saviours  feet,  he  took  the  hem 

Of  His  coarse  mantle,  and  with  trembling  hands 

Pressed  it  upon  his  lips,  and  murmured   low, 

"  Mast*  r,   my  Jam) Jit•  r  Γ 

The  same  silvery  light 
That  shone  upon  the  lone  rock  by  the 
Slept  on  the  Ruler's  lofty  capitals 
As  at  the  door  he  stood,  and  welcomed  in 
Jesus  and  His  disciples.      All   was  Mill. 
The  echoing  vestibule  gave  back  the  slide 
Of  their  loose  sandals,  and  the  arrowy  beam 
Of  moonlight,  slanting  to  the  marble  floor, 
Lay  like  a  epell  of  silence  in  the  rooms. 
As  Jairus  led  them  on.     With  hushing  steps 
He  trod  the  winding  stair;    but,  ere  he  touched 
The  latchet,   from  within   a   whisper  came  : 
"Trouble  the  Master  not, — -for  she  is  dead/" 
And  his  faint  hand  fell  nerveless  at   his  eide, 
And  his  steps  faltered,  and  his  broken  voice 
Choked  in  its  utterance.     But  a  gentle  hand 
Vi  is  laid  upon  his  arm.  and  in  his  ear 
The  Saviour's  voice  -aide  thrillingly  and  lo 
"She  is  not  dead,  b\  'It." 

They  passed  in. 
The  Bpice-lamps  in  the  alabaster  urns 


116  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Burned  dimly,  and  the  white  and  fragrant  smoke 

Curled  indolently  on  the  chamber  walls. 

The  silken  curtains  slumbered  in  their  folds. — 

Not  even  a  tassel  stirring  in  the  air, — 

And  as  the  Saviour  stood  beside  the  bed, 

And  prayed  inaudibly,  the  Ruler  heard 

The  quickening  division  of   His  breath 

As  He  grew  earnest  inwardly.     There  came 

A  gradual  brightness  o'er  His  calm,  sad  face ; 

And,  drawing  nearer  to  the  bed,  He  moved 

The  silken  curtains  silently  apart 

And  looked  upon  the  maiden. 

Like  a  form 
Of  matchless  sculpture,  in  her  sleep  she  lay, — 
The  linen  vesture  folded  on  her  breast, 
And  over  it  her  white,  transparent  hands, 
The  blood  still  rosy  in  their  tapering  nails. 
A  line  of   pearl  ran  through  her  parted  lips, 
And  in  her  nostrils,  spiritually  thin, 
The  breathing  curve  was  mockingly  like  life, 
And  round  beneath  the  faintly-tinted  skin 
Ran  the  light  branches  of   the  azure  veins  ; 
And  on  her  cheek  the  jet  lash  overlay, 
Matching  the  arches  pencilled  on  her  brow. 
Her  hair  had  been  unbound,  and,  falling  loose 
Upon  her  pillow,  hid  her  small,  round  ears 
In  curls  of   glossy  blackness,  and  about 
Her  polished  neck,  scarce  touching  it,  they  hun™, 
Like  airy  shadows  floating  as  they  slept. 
'Twas  heavenly  beautiful.     The  Saviour  raised 


A    HYMN    FOB    A  1.1.    NATIONS.  1  Γ 

Her  hand  from  off  ber  bosom,  and  epread  out 
The  snowy  fingers  in   His  palm,  and  said, 
"Mitidcu/    Arise/" — and   suddenly   a   Hush 
Shot  o'er  her  forehead,  and  along  her  lips 
And  through  her  cheek  tin•  rallied  color  ran, 
And  tin•  still  outline  <>!'  her  graceful  form 
Stirred  in  tin•  linen  veeture,  and  sin;  clasped 
The  Saviour's   hand,  and,   fixing  her  dark   <•. 
Full  on  His  beaming  countenance,  AROSE. 

N.  1'.  Willis. 


A   I IV. Μ  Ν    FOR  ALL  NATIONS. 

SUNG    AT   THE   GREAT    EXHIBITION    IX    LONDON,    1851, 
AND  TRANSLATED   INTO  THIRTY    LANGUA 
IN    UPWARDS   <>F    FIFTY   7ERSI0I 

[ous  God,  on  Thee  we  rail, 
■  ber,   Friend,  and  Judge  of  all . 
Holy  Saviour,  heavenly  King, 
Homage  to  Thy  throne  we  bring! 

Tn   the   wonders   all   around 

Ever  is  Thy  Spirit   found, 

And  of  each  good  thing  we  see 

All   the  i-   horn   of   Th 


118  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Thine  the  beauteous  skill  that  lurks 
Everywhere  in  Nature's  works ; 
Thine  is  Art,  with  all  its  worth, 
Thine  each  master-piece  on  earth. 

Yea,  and,  foremost  in  the  van, 
Springs  from  Thee  the  Mind  of   Man ; 
On  its  light,  for  this  is  Thine, 
Shed  abroad  the  love  divine  ! 

Lo,  our  God,  Thy  children  here 

From  all  realms  are  gathered  near, 

Wisely  gathered,  gathering  still, 

For  "peace  on  earth,  towards  men  good  will!" 

May  we,  with  fraternal  mind, 
Bless  our  Brothers  of  mankind ! 
May  we,  through  redeeming  love, 
Be  the  blest  of   God  above  ! 


LITANY  HYMN. 


Saviour,  when  in  dust  to  Thee 
Low  we  bow  th'  adoring  knee  ; 
AVhen,  repentant,  to  the  skies 
Scarce  we  lift  our  streaming  eyes ; 
Oh,  by  all  Thy  pains  and  woe, 
Suffered  once  for  man  below, 


II  1'ΛΝΥ     HYMN.  I  |9 

Bendimr  from  Thy  throne  on  high, 

Hear  our  solemn  litany. 

By  Thy  birth  and  early  years, 
By   Thy  human  gri.'t's  ami   tears, 
By  Thy  tasting  and  distr 
In  the  lonely  vnlderni 
By  Thy  victory  in   the  hour 
Of  the  subtle  tempter's  power; 
Jesus,  look  with  pitying  > 
Hear  our  solemn  litany 

By  Thine  hour  of   dark  despair, 

By  Thine  agony  of   prayer, 

By   the  purple  robe  of   scorn, 

By   Thy  wounds,   Thy  crown  of   thorn, 

By  Thy  cross,  Thy  pangs  and  cries, 

By  Thy  perfect  sacrifice  ; 

Jesus,  look  with  pitying  eye ; 

Hear  our  solemn  litany. 

By  Thy  deep  expiring  groan, 
By  the  sealed  sepulchral  stone. 
By  Thy  triumph  o'er  the  grave, 
By  Thy  power  from  death  to  save ; 
Mighty  God,  ascended  Lord, 
To  Thy  throne  in  heaven  restored, 
Prince  and  Saviour,  hear  our  cry, 
Hear  our  solemn  litany. 


I -20 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


GOD  S-ACRE. 


I  like  that  ancient  Saxon  phrase,  which  calls 
The  burial-ground  God's- Acre  !     It  is  just : 

It  consecrates  each  grave  within  its  walls, 

And  breathes  a  benison  o'er  the  sleeping  dust. 


CHRI8TMA8    EVEN.  121 

God's-Acre !     Yes,  that  blessed  name  imparts 
Comfort  to  those  who  in  the  grave  have  sown 

The  seed  that  they  had  garnered  in  their  hearts, — 
Their  bread  of  lit'»',  alas !    no  more  their  own. 

Into  its  furrows  shall  we  all  be  cast, 

In  the  sum  faith  thai   we  shall  rise  again 

At  the  great  harvest,   when  the  archangel's  blast 
Shall  winnow,  like  a  fan.  the  chatf  and  grain. 

Then  shall  the  good  stand  in  immortal  bloom 
In   til••   fair  gardens  of   that  second  birth, 

And  each  bright  blossom  mingle  its  perfume 

With  that  of  flowers  which  never  bloomed  on  earth. 

With  thy  rude  ploughshare,  Death,  turn  up  the  sod, 
And  spread  the  furrow  for  the  seed  we  sow; 

This   is  the  field  and  acre  of   our  God, 

This  is  the  place  when•  human  harvests  growl 

LONGFELLO'V 


CHRISTMAS   EVEN. 

Park  night   broods  o'er  the  city, 

Veiling  the  Temple's  eheen, 
And  o'er  the  fields  where  shepherds  keep 
ir  eheep  in   Pah-tine. 

SI 


122  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Dark  night  is  on  the  nations ; 

Blind  Pharisee  and  scribe 
Grope  vainly  for  the  glory-light 

Of  Judah's  Lion  tribe. 


"Let  there  be  light!"    Ο  Highest. 

As  when  this  earth  began  ; 
The  dawn  shall  rise  on  Nature, 

Bid  Thy  dawning  rise  on  man ! 
The  Temple  hears  no  tidings, 

The  Ark  receives  no  light, 
Not  to  Jerusalem  the  Fair 

Appear  the  Heralds  bright. 

Ah !    not  to  Herod,  Tetrarch, 

Nor  to  Sanhedrim  old. 
With  pomp  and  ceremonial, 

Shall  the  glad  news  be  told. 
Though  Anna  dwelleth  watching 

In  chastity  and  tears, 
Though  Simeon  to  "depart  in  peace" 

Hath  waited  fourscore  years ; 

Yet  in  the  fields,  to  shepherds 

Like  to  the  sheep  they  tend, 
"The  heavens  declare  the  glory"  forth, 

The  highest  heavens  descend. 
And  now  to  you  who,  watching 

Like  shepherds,  seek  the  sign, 
To  you  shall  Christ  the  Lord  be  born 

As  once  in  Palestine. 


THE    ECHOES    OF    THE    ANGEL*     BONG.  L23 

Fly  open,  hearts  like  mangi  ι 

For  Him  no  fitting  inn  ; 
Prepare  ye  for  tlie  Infant  God ; 

Scourge  out  each  brute-like  sin  ; 
Make  ready  gifts  of  innocence 

To  greet  the  coming  morn  : 
Then  o'er  your  hearts  His  star  shall  rest, 

And  there  He  shall  be  born. 

H.  Coppee. 


THE  ECHOES  OF  THE  ANGELS'  SONG. 

"Glory  be  to  God  on  high!" 

Such  the  wondrous  story  : 
Hark  !    an  earthly  echo  hears 

And  sends  back — the  "Glorv!" 


"Peace  on  earth!    good  will  to  men!" 

Thus  the  song  doth  ccas'• 
Stay :    one  strain  of  angel  music 

Echoes  back — the  "Peace!" 

H.  Coppee. 


124 


SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


THE   FLOWERS   OF   GOD. 


The  welcome  flowers  are  blossoming, 
In  joyous  troops  revealed ; 

They  lift  their  dewy  buds  and  bells 
In  garden,  mead,  and  field : 

They  lurk  in  every  sunless  path, 
Where  forest  children  tread; 


THE    FLOWEES   OF   GOD.  125 

They  dot,  like  stars,  the  sacred  turf, 
Which  lies  above  the  dead. 

They  sport  with  every  playful  wind 

That  stirs  the  blooming  trees, 
And  laugh  on  every  fragrant  bush. 

All  full  of  toiling  bees: 
From  the  green   marge  of   lake  and  stream, 

Fresh  vale  and  mountain  sod, 
They  look  in  gentle  glory  forth, — 

The  pure  sweet  flowers  of  God. 

They  come,  with  genial  airs  and  skies, 

In  summer's  golden  prime, 
And  to  the  Btricken  world  give  back 

Lost  Eden's  blissful  (dime  : 
Outshining  Solomon  they  come, 

And  go  full  soon  away  ; 
But  yet,  like  him,  they  meekly  breathe 

True  wisdom  while  they  stay. 

"If   God,"  they  whisper,   "smiles  on  us, 

And  bids  us  bloom  and  shine, 
Does  He  not  mark,   Ο   faithless  man  ' 

Each   wish   and   want   of    thin 
Think,  too,  what    joys  await   in  Heaven 

The  blest  of  human  birth, 
When   rapture   such   as   woos   thee   now 

Can  reach  the  bad  on  earth  I" 

32 


126  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Redeemer  of  a  fallen  race, 

Most  merciful  of  kings, 
Thy  hallowed  words  have  clothed  with  power 

Those  frail  and  beauteous  things  : 
All  taught  by  Thee,  they  yearly  speak 

Their  message  of  deep  love, 
Bidding  us  fix,  for  life  and  death, 

Our  hearts  and  hopes  above. 

J.  G.  Lyons. 


THE  ROYAL  BANNERS. 

The  Royal  Banners  forward  go ; 
The  Cross  shines  forth  in  mystic  glow ; 
Where  He  in  flesh,  our  flesh  Who  made, 
Our  sentence  bore,  our  ransom  paid. 

There  whilst  He  hung,  His  sacred  Side 
By  soldier's  spear  was  opened  wide, 
To  cleanse  us  in  the  precious  flood 
Of  Water  mingled  with  His  Blood. 


ο 


Fulfilled  is  now  what  David  told 

In  true  prophetic  song  of  old, 

How  God  the  heathen's  King  should  be 

For  God  is  reigning  from  the  tree. 


ΤΠΕ    ROYAL    BANNERS.  L27 

Ο  tree  of  glory,  tree  most   fair. 
Ordained  those  Holy  Limbs  to  b 
How  bright  in  purple  robe  it  stood, 
The  purple  of  a  Saviour's  Blood  ! 

Upon  its  arms,  like  balance  true, 
He  weighed  the  price  for  sinners  due, — 
The  price  which  none  but  He  could  pay, — 
And  spoiled  the  spoiler  of  his  prey. 

To  Thee,  Eternal  Three  in  One, 
Let  homage  meet  by  all  be  done  : 
As  by  the  Cross  Thou  dost  restore, 
So  rule  and  guide  us  evermore. 


Ο  Life,  Ο  Death,  Ο  World,  Ο  Time, 
Ο  Grave,  where  all  things  flow, 

'Tis  yours  to  make  our  lot  sublime 
With  your  great  weight  of   woe  ! 

Though  sharpest  anguish  hearts  may  wring, 

Though  bosoms  torn  may  be. 
Yet  suffering  is  a  holy  thii 

"Without  it,  what  were  v. 

Tri  ■ 


128 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


RESIGNATION. 


Theee  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended, 

But  one  dead  lamb  is  there  ! 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 

But  has  one  vacant  chair  ! 


RESIGNATION. 


129 


The  air  is  full  of   farewells  to  the  dying, 

And  mournings  for  the  dead  ; 
The  heart  of   Rachel,  for  her  children  crying, 

Will   not.  ho  comforted ! 

us  he  patient !     These  severe  afflictions 
Not  from  the  ground  arise, 
But  oftentimes  celestial  benedictions 
Assume  this  dark  disguise. 

We  see  but  dimly  through  the  mists  and  vapors; 

Amid  these  earthly  damps, 
What   seem  to   us  but  sad,  funereal  tapers 

May  be  heaven's  distant  lamps. 

There  is  no  Death  !      What  seems  so  is  transition. 

This  life  of   mortal  breath 
Is  but  a  suburb  of  the  life  elysian 

Whose  portal  we  call  Death. 

She  is  not  dead, — the  child  of  our  affection, — 

But  gone  unto  that  school 
Whore  she  no  longer  aeeds  our  poor  protection, 

And  Christ    Himself   doth  ru 


In  that  great  cloister's  stillness  and  seclusion, 
By  guardian  angels  led, 

from  temptation,  eafe  from  sin's  pollul 
whom  we  call  dead. 

S3 


130  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Day  after  clay  we  think  what  she  is  doing 

In  those  bright  realms  of   air ; 
Year  after  year,  her  tender  steps  pursuing, 

Behold  her  grown  more  fair. 

Thus  do  we  walk  with  her,  and  keep  unbroken 

The  bond  which  nature  gives, 
Thinking  that  our  remembrance,  though  unspoken, 

May  reach  her  where  she  lives. 

Not  as  a  child  shall  we  again  behold  her; 

For  when  with  raptures  wild 
In  our  embraces  we  again  enfold  her, 

She  will  not  be  a  child ; 

But  a  fair  maiden,  in  her  Father's  mansion, 

Clothed  with  celestial  grace ; 
And  beautiful  with  all  the  soul's  expansion 

Shall  we  behold  her  face. 

And  though  at  times,  impetuous  with  emotion 

And  anguish  long  suppressed, 
The  swelling  heart  heaves  moaning  like  the  ocean, 

That  cannot  be  at  rest, — 

We  will  be  patient,  and  assuage  the  feeling 

We  may  not  wholly  stay ; 
By  silence  sanctifying,  not  concealing, 

The  grief  that  must  have  way. 

Longfellow. 


HAVE     ΜΚΚι  Υ  : 


HAVE  MERCY! 

Lord,  many  times   L  am  aweary  qui 

Of  mine  own  self,  my  sin,   my   vanity  ; 
Yet  be  not  Thou — or  I  am  lost  outright — 
Weary  of  me. 

I  hate  againsl   myself   I  often  bear, 
An.!  enter  with  myself   in  fierce  debat• 
Take  Thou  my  part  against  myself,  nor  ehare 
In  that  just  h 

Best  friends  might  loathe  us  if   what  things  perv< 
We  know  of  our  own  selves  they  also  knew  : 
Lord,  Holy  One,  if  Thou  who  knowest   woi 
Shouldst  loathe  us  tool 

.cu. 


132 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


JERUSALEM. 


Jerusalem,  thou  City  blest ! 
Dear  vision  of   celestial  rest, 


JERUSALEM.  L33 

Which  far  above  the  starry  sky, 
Piled  up  with  living  stones  on  high, 
Art,  as  a  Bride,  encircled  bright 

With  million  angel  forms  of  light : 

Oh,  wedded  in  a  prosperous  hour. 

The  Father's  glory  was  thy  dower: 

The  Spirit  all  His  graces  ehed, 

Thou  peerless  Queen,   upon  thy  head; 

When  Chrisl    espoused  thee  for  His  Bride, 

Ο  City  bright  and  glorified  ! 

Thy  gates  a  pearly  lustre  pour : 

Thy  gates  are  open  evermore; 

And  thither  evermore  draw  nigh 

All  who  for  Christ  have  dared  to  die, 

Or,  smit  with  love  of  their  dear  Lord, 

Have  pains  endured,  and  joys  abhorred. 

Thou  too,  Ο  Church,  which  here  we  see! 
No  easy  task  hath  builded  thee. 
Long  did  the  chisels  ring  around  ; 
Lons  did  the  mallets'  blows  rebound: 

Long  worked  the  head  and  toiled  the  hand, 
Ere  stood   thy  stones  as  now  they  stand  ' 

Breviary. 


-t 


134  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  GOD   OF   LOVE. 

The  God  of  love  my  Shepherd  is, 
And  He  that  doth  me  feed ; 

While  He  is  mine,  and  I  am  His, 
What  can  I  want  or  need? 

He  leads  me  to  the  tender  grass, 
Where  I  both  feed  and  rest ; 

Then  to  the  streams  that  gently  pass : 
In  both  I  have  the  best. 

Or,  if  I  stray,  He  doth  convert, 
And  bring  my  mind  in  frame. 

And  all  this,  not  for  my  desert, 
But  for  His  holy  name. 

Yea,  in  death's  shady,  black  abode 
Well  may  I  walk,  nor  fear : 

For  Thou  art  with  me,  and  Thy  rod 
To  guide,  Thy  staff  to  bear. 

Nay,  Thou  dost  make  me  sit  and  dine, 
Ev'n  in  my  enemies'  sight. 


THE    GOD    OF    LOVE. 


135 


My  head  with  oil,  ray  cup  with  wine 
Runs  over,  day  and  night. 

Surely  Thy  sweet  and  wondrous  love 
Shall  measure  all  my  days ; 

And,  as  it  never  shall  remove, 
So  neither  shall  my  praise. 

Herbert. 


136  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


STABAT  MATER  DOLOROSA. 

At  the  cross  her  station  keeping, 
Stood  the  mournful  mother  weeping, 

Where  He  hung,  the  dying  Lord ; 
For  her  soul,  of  joy  bereaved, 
Bowed  with  anguish,  deeply  grieved, 

Felt  the  sharp  and  piercing  sword. 

Oh,  how  sad  and  sore  distressed 
Now  was  she,  that  mother  blessed 

Of   the  Sole-begotten  One ; 
Deep  the  woe  of  her  affliction 
When  she  saw  the  Crucifixion 

Of  her  ever-glorious  Son. 

Who  on  Christ's  dear  mother  gazing, 
Pierced  by  anguish  so  amazing, 

Born  of  woman,  would  not  weep? 
Who  on  Christ's  dear  mother  thinking, 
Such  a  cup  of   sorrow  drinking, 

Would  not  share  her  sorrows  deep? 

For  His  people's  sins  chastised, 
She  beheld  her  Son  despised, 

Scourged,  and  crowned  with  thorns  entwined 


A    WREATH.  137 


Saw  Him  then  from  judgment  taken, 
And  in  death  by  all  forsaken, 
Till  His  spirit  He  resigned. 

Jesu,  may  such  deep  devotion 
Stir  in  me  the  same  emotion, 

Fount  of  love,  Redeemer  kind, 
That  my  heart,  fresh  ardor  gaining 
And  a  purer  love  attaining, 

May  with  Thee  acceptance  find  ! 


A  WREATH. 


A  wreathed  garland  of  deserved  praise, 

Of  praise,  deserved,  unto  Thee  I  give; 

I  give  to  Thee,  who  knowest  all  my  ways, 

My  crooked  winding  ways,  wherein  I  live. 

Wherein  I  die,   not  live ;    for  life  is  straight, 

Straight  as  a  line,  and  ever  tends  to  Thee, — 

To  Thee,  who  art  more  tar  above  deceit 

Than  deceit  seems  above  simplicity. 

Give  me  simplicity,   that    Τ  may  live  ; 

So   live  and   like,    that    I    may   know   Thy   ways  , 

Know  them  and  practise  them.      Then  shall  I  give 

For  this  poor  wreath,  give  Thee  a  crown  of  pr 

ITKRr.F.RT. 
35 


138  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


THE  SILENT  TOWER. 

Tintadgel  bells  ring  o'er  the  tide  ! 
The  boy  leans  on  his  vessel  side, — 
He  hears  that  sound,  and  dreams  of  home 
Soothe  the  wild  orphan  of  the  foam. 
"Come  to  thy  God  in  time!" 
Thus  saith  their  pealing  chime  : 
"Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 
Come  to  thy  God  at  last!" 

But  why  are  Bottreaux'  echoes  still? 

Her  tower  stands  proudly  on  the  hill : 

Yet  the  strange  chough  that  home  hath  found, 

The  lamb  lies  sleeping  on  the  ground. 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 

Should  be  her  answering  chime, 

Come  to  thy  God  at  last ! 

Should  echo  on  the  blast. 

The  ship  rode  down  with  courses  free, 
The  daughter  of  a  distant  sea; 
Her  sheet  was  loose,  her  anchor  stored, — 
The  merry  Bottreaux  bells  on  board. 


THE    SILENT    TOWER. 


139 


"Come  to  thy  God  in  time!" 
Rung  out  Tintadgel  chime  : 
"  Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 
Come  to  thy  God  at  last !" 


The  pilot  heard  his  native  bells 
Hang  on  the  breeze  in  fitful  swells 


140  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

"Thank  God!"  with  reverent  brow,  he  cried, 
"We  make  the  shore  with  evening's  tide!" 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 

It  was  his  marriage  chime  : — 

Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 

His  bell  must  ring  at  last ! 

Thank  God,  thou  whining  knave,  on  land ! 
But  thank,  at  sea,  the  steersman's  hand, 
The  captain's  voice  above  the  gale, — 
Thank  the  good  ship  and  ready  sail ! 
Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 
Sad  grew  the  boding  chime : 
Come  to  thy  God  at  last, — 
Boomed  heavy  on  the  blast ! 

Uprose  that  sea,  as  if   it  heard 
The  mighty  Master's  signal  word  ! 
What  thrills  the  captain's  whitening  lip? 
The  death-groans  of  his  sinking  ship. 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ! 

Swung  deep  the  funeral  chime  : 

Grace,  mercy,  kindness,  past, 

Come  to  thy  God  at  last ! 

Long  did  the  rescued  pilot  tell, 
When  gray  hairs  o'er  his  forehead  fell, 
While  those  around  would  hear  and  weep, 
That  fearful  judgment  of   the  deep  ! 

Come  to  thy  God  in  time  ' 

He  read  his  native  chime  : 

Youth,  manhood,  old  age,  past, 

His  bell  rung  out  at  last! 


THE    SILENT   TOWEB 


1  11 


Still,   when  the  storm  of   Bottreaux'  waw- 
[g  wakening  in  his  weedy  caves, 
Those  bells  that  sullen  surges  hide 
Peal  their  deep  notes  beneath  the  tide. 

Come  to  thy  God  m  tin 

Thus  eaith  the  ocean  elm 

Sturm,    billow,    whirlwind,   past, 

Come  to  thy  God  at  last. 

R.  S.  Hawker. 


Μ 


142  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


STRIVE. 

Strive,  when  thou  art  called  of  God, 
When  He  draws  thee  by  His  grace, 

Strive  to  cast  away  the  load 

That  would  clog  thee  in  the  race ! 

Fight,  though  it  may  cost  thy  life, 
Storm  the  kingdom,  but  prevail ; 

Let  not  Satan's  fiercest  strife 

Make  thee,  warrior,  faint  or  quail. 

Wrestle,  till  through  every  vein 

Love  and  strength  are  glowing  warm,- 

Love  that  can  the  world  disdain : 
Half-love  will  not  bide  the  storm. 

Wrestle,  with  strong  prayers  and  cries, 
Think  no  time  too  much  to  spend, 

Though  the  night  be  passed  in  sighs. 
Though  all  day  thy  voice  ascend. 

Hast  thou  won  the  pearl  of   price? 

Think  not  thou  hast  reached  the  goal, 
Conquered  every  sin  and  vice 

That  had  power  to  harm  thy  soul. 


:  I  RIVE.  14ί 


Gaze  with   mingled   joy  and  fear 

On  the  refuge  thou  hael  found 

Know,  while  yet  we  linger  here 


Aim   thou   faithful?    then  opjx 

Sin  Mini  wrong  with  all  thy  mighl  . 

Care  not  how  tin•  tempest  blow-. 
Only  care  to  win   tin•  light. 

Art  thou  faithful?     Wake  and  watch, 
Love  with  all  thy  heart  Christ's  ways, 

Seek  not  transient  ease  to  snatch, 
Look  not  for  reward  or  praif 

Art  thou  faithful  ?     Stand  apart 

From  all  worldly  hope  and  pleasure, 

Yonder  fix  your  hopes  and  heart, 

On  the  heaven  where  lies  our  treasure. 

Soldiers  of  the  Cross,  be  strong, 
Watch  and  war  mid  fear  and  pain, 

Daily  conquering  woe  and  wrong, 
Till  our  King  o'er  earth  shall  reign  ! 

Winkler. 


144 


SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


SUNDAY. 


Ο  day  most  calm,  most  bright ! 
The  fruit  of  this,   the  next  world's  bud ; 
Th'  indorsement  of   supreme  delight, 
Writ  by  a  Friend,  and  with  His  blood ; 


SUNDAY.  I  I    i 

The  couch  of  time;    care's  balm  and  bay: — 
The  week  were  dark,  but  for  thy  light; 
Thy  torch  doth  show  the  way. 

The  Other  Jays   and   thou 
Make  up  one  man;    whose  face  thou  art, 
Knocking  at   heaven  with   thy  brow, 

worky  days  are  the  back-part 
The  burden  of  the  week  lies  there, 
Making  the  whole  to  stoop  and  bow, 

Till  thy  release  appear. 

Man   had  straight   forward   e< 
To  endless  death.     But  thou  dost  pull 
And  turn  us  round,   to  look  on  one 
Whom,    if    we   were   not   very  dull, 
We  could  not  choose  but  look  on  still; 
Since  there  is  no  place  so  al< 

The  which   lie  doth   not  fill. 

Sundays   the   pillars  are 
On  which  heaven's  palace  arched  lies  ; 
The  other  days   till   up  the   spare 
And  hollow  room   with   vanities. 
They  are  the  fruitful  bed  and  bord 
In   God's   rich   garden:     that,  is   bare 

Which   parts   their  ranks  and  orders. 

of   man's  life, 
Threaded   together   on   Time's   string, 


146  SONGS    OF    PEAISE.     ■ 

Make  bracelets  to  adorn  the  wife 
Of  the  eternal,  glorious  King. 
On  Sunday,  heaven's  gate  stands  ope ; 
Blessings  are  plentiful  and  rife  ; 
More  plentiful  than  hope. 

This  day  rny  Saviour  rose, 
And  did  inclose  this  light  for  His, 
That,  as  each  beast  his  manger  knows, 
Man  might  not  of  his  fodder  miss. 
Christ  hath  took  in  this  piece  of  ground, 
And  made  a  garden  there,  for  those 

Who  want  herbs  for  their  wound. 

The  Rest  of  our  creation 
Our  great  Redeemer  did  remove 
With  the  same  shake  which,  at  His  passion, 
Did  th'  earth,  and  all  things  with  it,  move. 
As  Samson  bore  the  doors   away, 
Christ's  hands,  though  nailed,  wrought  our  salvation, 

And  did  unhinge  that  day. 

The  brightness  of  that  day 
We  sullied  by  our  foul  offence  ; 
Wherefore  that  robe  we  cast  away, 
Having  a  new  at  His  expense, 
Whose  drops  of  blood  paid  the  full  price 
That  was  required  to  make  us  gay 

And  fit  for  paradise. 

Thou  art  a  day  of  mirth  : 
And,  where  the  week-days  trail  on  ground, 


AUDI,    TELLUS,    AUDI.  1  1, 

Thy  flight  is  higher,  as  thy  birth. 
Oh,  lei  me  take  thee  at  the  bound, 
Leaping  with  thee  from  seven  to  seven. 
Till  that  we  both,  being  tossed  from  earth, 

Fly  hand  in  hand  to  heaven  ! 

Herbert. 


AUDI,   TELLUS,   AUDI. 

ADVENT  HYMN  OF  THE  ELEVENTH  CENTURY. 

Hear,  Earth,  hear  God's  decree, 
( lave  of  the  might 
Hear,  man  !    hear  every  one 
Dwelling  beneath  the  sun ! 

It  cometh !    it  is  near, 

The  day  of   wrath  and  fear' 

Woe  for  that  bitter  day. 

When  shrinks  the  heaven  away! 

GloAveth  the  sun  blood-red; 

Afar  the  pale  moon  flieth  ; 

Morning  in  blackness  dieth : 

Earthward  the   wan   stars   fall. 

Upon  that  day  of  dread, 

Woe!  woe  for  sinners  all  I 

In   guilt    ami   misery, 

What   shall  our  portion  be? 

Washburn. 


148 


SONGS  of  praise. 


S,A>  jggS 


THE   CURATE. 


Near  yonder  copse,  where  once  the  garden  smiled, 
And  still  where  many  a  garden-flower  grows  wild, 


THE   CURATE.  1  Γ' 

There,  where  a  few  torn  shrubs  the  place  disclo 

The  village  preacher's  modesl   mansion  ι• 

Λ    man  he  was  to  all   the  country  dear, 

And  passing  rich  with   forty  pounds  a  year; 

Remote  from  towns  be  ran   bis  godly  race, 

Nor  e'er  had  changed,   uor  wished  to  change,   his  place; 

Unskilful  he  to  fawn,  or  seek  for  power, 

liv  doctrines  fashioned  to  the  varying  hour; 

Far  other  aims  his  heart  had  Learned  to  prize, 

More  bent  to  raise  the  wretched  than  to  r 

His  house  was  known  to  all  the  vagrant  train, 

He  chid  their  wanderings,  but   relieved  their  pain; 

The  long-remembered  beggar  was  his  gu 

Whose  beard  descending  swept   his  aged  breast; 

The  ruined  spendthrift,  now  no  longer  proud, 

Claimed  kindred  there,  and   had   his  claims  allowed; 

The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay. 

Sate   by   his   lire,   and  talked   the   night  away  ; 

Wept   o'er  his  wounds,  or,   tales  of   sorrow  done, 

Shouldered  his  crutch,   and  showed  how  fields   were   won. 

Pleased  with  his  guests,  the  good  man  Learned  to  glow, 

And  quite  forgot  their  vices  in  their  woe: 

Careless  their  merits  or  their  faults  to  b< 

His  pity  gave  ere  charity  began. 

Thus  to  relieve  the  wretched  was  his  pride, 

And   e'en   his   failings   Leaned   to   virtue's   side; 

Bui    in   his  duty   prompt    at    every   call, 

lb-   watched  and   wept,    la•   prayed  and    felt    for  all; 

And,  as  a  bird  each  fond  endearment  tries 

To  tempt  its  new-Hedged  oftspring  to  the  si. 


150  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

He  tried  each  art,  reproved  each  dull  delay, 
Allured  to  brighter  worlds,  and  led  the  way. 

Beside  the  bed  where  parting  life  was  laid, 
And  sorrow,  guilt,  and  pain,  by  turns  dismayed, 
The  reverend  champion  stood.     At  his  control, 
Despair  and  anguish  fled  the  struggling  soul ; 
Comfort  came  down  the  trembling  wretch  to  raise, 
And  his  last  faltering  accents  whispered  praise. 

At  church,  with  meek  and  unaffected  grace, 

His  looks  adorned  the  venerable  place  ; 

Truth  from  his  lips  prevailed  with  double  sway, 

And  fools,  who  came  to  scoff,  remained  to  pray. 

The  service  past,  around  the  pious  man, 

With  ready  zeal,  each  honest  rustic  ran  ; 

E'en  children  followed,  with  endearing  wile, 

And  plucked  his  gown,  to  share  the  good  man's  smile. 

His  ready  smile  a  parent's  warmth  exprest, 

Their  welfare  pleased  him,  and  their  cares  distrest ; 

To  them  his  heart,  his  love,  his  griefs,  were  given, 

But  all  his  serious  thoughts  had  rest  in  heaven. 

As  some  tall  cliff  that  lifts  its  awful  form, 

Swells  from  the  vale,  and  midway  leaves  the  storm, 

Though  round  its  breast  the  rolling  clouds  are  spread, 

Eternal  sunshine  settles  on  its  head. 

Goldsmith. 


iLEs. 


151 


CASTLES. 

Let  them  that  would  build  castles  in  the  air 
Vault  thither,  without  step  or  stair, 
Instead  of  feet  to  climb,  take  wings  to  fly, 
And  think  their  turret's  top  the  sky. 
But  let  me  lay  all  my  foundations  deep, 
And  karn,  before  I  run,  to  creep. 
"W  ho  digs  through  rocks  to  lay  his  ground-works  low 
May  in  good  time  build  high,  and  sure,  though  slow. 

Christopher  Harvey. 


152  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


GOD  IN  NATURE. 

Go  forth,  my  heart,  and  seek  delight 
In  all  the  gifts  of  God's  great  might, 

These  pleasant  summer  hours  : 
Look  how  the  plains  for  thee  and  me 
Have  decked  themselves  most  fair  to  see, 

All  bright  and  sweet  with  flower's. 

The  trees  stand  thick  and  dark  with  leaves, 
And  earth  o'er  all  her  dust  now  weaves 

A  robe  of   living  green ; 
Nor  silks  of  Solomon  compare 
With'  glories  that  the  tulips  wear, 

Or  lilies'  spotless  sheen. 

The  lark  soars  singing  into  space, 
The  dove  forsakes  her  hiding-place, 

And  coos  the  woods  among ; 
'The  richly-gifted  nightingale 
Pours  forth  her  voice  o'er  hill  and  dale, 

And  floods  the  fields  with  song. 

Here  with  her  brood  the  hen  doth  walk, 
There  builds  and  guards  his  nest  the  stork, 
The  fleet- winged  swallows  pass ; 


GOD    IN    NATURE. 


1Λ:; 


The  swift  stag  leaves  his  rocky  homo. 
And  down  the  light  deer  bounding  come 
To  taste  the  long  rich  grass. 


The  brooks  rush  gargling  through  the  sand. 
And  from  the  trees  on  either  h 

Cool  shad»••  them  fall  ; 


154  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

The  meadows  at  their  side  are  glad 
With  herds ;  and,  hark !  the  shepherd  lad 
Sends  forth  his  mirthful  call. 

And  humming,  hovering  to  and  fro, 
The  never-wearied  swarms  forth  go 

To  seek  their  honeyed  food ; 
And  through  the  vine's  yet  feeble  shoots 
Stream  daily  upwards  from  her  roots 

New  strength  and  juices  good. 

The  corn  springs  up,  a  wealth  untold, 
A  sight  to  gladden  young  and  old, 

Who  now  their  voices  lift 
To  Him  who  gives  such  plenteous  store, 
And  makes  the  cup  of  life  run  o'er 

With  many  a  noble  gift. 

Thy  mighty  working,  mighty  God, 
Wakes  all  my  powers ;    I  look  abroad 

And  can  no  longer  rest : 
I  too  must  sing  when  all  things  sing, 
And  from  my  heart  the  praises  ring 

The  Highest  loveth  best.  a 

I  think,  Art  Thou  so  good  to  us, 
And  scatterest  joy  and  beauty  thus 

O'er  this  poor  earth  of  ours ; 
What  nobler  glories  shall  be  given 
Hereafter  in  Thy  shining  heaven, 

Set  round  with  golden  towers  ! 


GOD    IN    NATURE.  155 

What  thrilling  joy  when  on  our  sight 
Christ's  garden  beams  in  cloudless  light, 

Where  all  the  air  is  sweet, 
Still  laden  with  the  unwearied  hymn 
From  all  the  thousand  seraphim 

Who  God's  high  praise  repeat  ' 

Oh,  were  I  there  !     Oh  that    I   now. 
Dear  God,  before  Thy  throne  could  bow, 

And  bear  my  heavenly  palm! 
Then  like  the  angels  would  I  rai 
My  voice,  and  sing  Thy  endless  praise 

In  many  a  sweet-toned  psalm. 

Nor  can  I  now,  Ο  God,  forbear, 
Though  still  this  mortal  yoke   1   wear, 

To  utter  oft  Thy  name  ; 
But  still  my  heart  is  bent  to  speak 
Thy  praisi  -      -till,   though  poor  and  weak. 

Would   1   Bet   forth  Thy  tame. 

But    help  me  :    lot    Thy   heavenly   showers 

Revive  and  bless  my  feinting  pow<  ι 

And  lei    me  thrive  and  grow- 
Beneath  the  summer  of   Thy  grace, 
And   fruits  of    faith   bud   forth   apace 

\\  bile  yel   I  dwell  below. 

And  Bel   me,    Lord,   in    Paradise 
When    1    have  bloomed   beneath  these  skies 
Till  my  last   leaf   is  flown  ; 


156  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Thus  let  me  serve  Thee  here  in  time, 
And  after,  in  that  happier  clime, 
And  Thee,  my  God,  alone  ! 

Paul  Gerhardt. 


JAM  MCESTA  QUIE8CE  QUERELA. 

PRUDENTIUS,    FIFTH    CENTURY. 

No  more,  ah,  no  more  sad  complaining, 
Resign  these  fond  pledges  to  earth; 

Stay,  mothers,  the  thick-falling  tear-drops : 
This  death  is  a  heavenly  birth. 

What  mean  these  still  caverns  of  marble, 
Fair  shrines  that  the  dear  ashes  keep? 

How  sweetly  they  tell  of  the  loved  ones, 
Not  dead,  but  soft  resting  in  sleep ! 

What  though  on  the  pale,  icy  forehead 
No  gleam  of  the  intellect  break  ? 

A  moment  it  slumbers,  till  nobler 
Its  powers  in  their  beauty  awake. 

Soon,  soon  through  the  motionless  body 
The  warm,  loving  life-tide  shall  pour, 

And,  blushing  with  joy,  shall  revisit 
The  home  it  has  dwelt  in  before 


JAM    MCESTA    •,■'  QUERELA.  151 

These  clods,  'neath  the  hillock  reposing, 

Long  wasting  in  silent  decay. 
Shall  follow  the  souls  that  have  loved  them, 

On  winged  winds  soaring  away. 

So  green  from  the  seed  springs  the  blossom, 
Long  perished,  long  hid  in  the  mould ; 

And  fresh  from  the  turf,  it  remembers 
The  wide-waving  harvests  of  old. 

Take,   Earth,  to  thy  bosom  so  tender, 
Take,  nourish  this  body.     How  fair, 

How  noble  in  death  !    we  surrender 
These  relics  of  man  to  thy  care. 

This,  this  was  the  home  of  the  spirit, 
Once  built  by  the  breath  of  our  God  ; 

And  here,  in  the  light  of  His  wisdom, 
Christ,  Head  of   the  risen,  abode. 

Guard  well  the  dear  treasure  we  lend  thee: 

The  Maker,  the  Saviour  of  men 
Shall  never  forget  His  belove'd, 

But  claim  His  own  likeness  again. 

Speed  on,  perfect  year,   to  the  morning; 

God's  fulness  shall  dawn  on  the  ju 
And  thou,  open  grave,  shalt  restore  us 

This  holy,  unchangeable  dust. 

Washburn 

40 


158 


SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


THE  CROSS. 


Are  thy  toils  and  woes  increasing? 
Are  the  Foe's  attacks  unceasing? 


Tin•;  cross.  L59 

Look  with  Faith  unclouded, 
Gaze  with  eyes  unshrouded, 
On  the  Cross ! 

Dost  thou  fear  that  strictest  trial? 
Tremblest  thou  at  Christ's  denial? 

Never  rest  without  it, 

Clasp  thine  arms  about  it, — 
That  dear  Cross  ! 

Diabolic  legions  press  thee? 

Thoughts  and  works  of  sin  distress  thee? 

It  shall  chase  all  terror, 

It  shall  rig] it  all  error, — 
That  sweet  Cross ! 

Draw'st  thou  nigh  to  Jordan's  river? 
Shouldst  thou  tremble?     Xeed'st  thou  quiver? 

No,  if  by  it  lying. — 

No,  if  on  it  dying, — 
On  the  Cross ! 

Say.  then,   "  Master,  while  I  cherish 
That  sweet  hope,  I  cannot  perish  I 

After  this  life's  story, 

Give  Thou  me  the  glory 
For  the  Cross !" 

St.  Methodius. 


160 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


GOD'S   WORD. 


Oh,  blest  were  the  accents  of  early  creation, 

When  the  Word  of  Jehovah  came  down  from  above, 

In  the  clods  of  the  earth  to  infuse  animation, 
And  wake  their  cold  atoms  to  life  and  to  love ! 


god's  worp.  UU 

And  mighty  the  tones  which  the  firmament  rended, 
When  on  wheels  of  the  thunder,  and  wings  of  the  wind, 

By  lightning,  and  hail,  and  thick  darkness  attend• 
lie  uttered  on  Sinai  His  laws  to  mankind. 


And  sweet  was  the  voice  of  the  First-Born  of  Heaven 
(Though  poor  His  apparel,  though  earthly  His  form), 

Who  said  to  the  mourner,   "Thy  sins  are  forgiven!" 
"  Be  whole  !"  to  the  sick,  and  "  Be  still !"  to  the  storm. 

Ο  Judge  of   the  world,   when,  arrayed  in  Thy  glory, 
Thy  summons  again  shall  be  heard  from  on  high. 

While  nature  stands  trembling  and  naked  before  The.•, 
And  waits  on  Thy  sentence  to  live  or  to  die ; 

When  the  Heaven  shall  fly  fast  from  the  sound  of  Thy 
thunder, 

And  the  sun  in  Thy  lightnings  grow  languid  and  pale, 
And  the  sea  yield  her  dead,  and  the  Tomb  cleave  asunder, 

In  the  hour  of  Thy  terrors,  let  mercy  prevail  ! 

Heber. 


II 


162 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


TO   MONT   BLANC. 


Hast  thou  a  charm  to  stay  the  morning  star 
In  his  steep  course?     So  long  he  seems  to  pause 
On  thy  bald  awful  head,   Ο  sovereign  Blanc  ! 
The  Arve  and  Arveiron  at  thy  base 
Rave  ceaselessly ;    but  thou,  most  awful  Form, 
Risest  from  forth  thy  silent  sea  of  pines, 
How  silently !     Around  thee  and  above 
Deep  is  the  air  and  dark,  substantial,  blaok, 


TO    MONT    BLANC.  163 

An  ebon  mass :    methinks  thou  piercest  it, 

As  with  a  wedge !     But  when  I  look  again, 

It  is  thine  own  calm  home,  thy  crystal  shrine, 

Thy  habitation  from  eternity ! 

Ο  dread  and  silent  Mount,  I  gazed  upon  thee 

Till  thou,  still  present  to  the  bodily  sense, 

Didst  vanish  from  my  thought :  entranced  in  prayer, 

I  worshipped  the  Invisible  alone. 

Yet,  like  some  sweet  beguiling  melody, 
So  sweet  we  know  not  we  are  listening  to  it, 
Thou,  the  mean  while,  wast  blending  with  my  thought, 
Yea,  with  my  life  and  life's  own  secret  joy, 
Till  the  dilating  soul,  enraw.  transfused, 
Into  the  mighty  vision  passing — there 
As  in  her  natural  form,  swelled  vast  to  Heaven  ! 

Awake,  my  soul !    not  only  passive  praise 
Thou  owest !    not  alone  these  swelling  tears, 
Mute  thanks,  and  secret  ecstasy !     Awake, 
Voice  of  sweet  song !     Awake,  my  heart,  awake  ! 
Green  vales  and  icy  cliffs,  all  join  my  hymn. 

Thou  first  and  chief,  sole  sovereign  of  the  Vale  I 
Oh,  struggling  with  the  darkness  all  the  night, 
And  visited  all  night  by  troops  of  si 
Or  when  they  climb  the  sky  or  when  they  sink  ; 
Companion  of   the  morning  star  at   dawn, 
Thyself   Earth's  rosy  star,  and  of  the  dawn 
Coherald :    wake,  oh,  wake,  and  utter  prai- 
Who  sank  thy  sunless  pillars  deep  in  earth  '.) 


161  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Who  filled  thy  countenance  with  rosy  light? 
Who  made  thee  parent  of   perpetual  streams  ? 

And  you,  ye  five  wild  torrents  fiercely  glad ! 
Who  called  you  forth  from  night  and  utter  death. 
From  dark  and  icy  ca\Terns  called  you  forth, 
Down  those  precipitous,  black,  jagged  rocks, 
Fore\Ter  shattered  and  the  same  forever? 
Who  gave  you  your  invulnerable  life, 
Your  strength,  your  speed,  your  fury,  and  your  joy, 
Unceasing  thunder  and  eternal  foam? 
And  who  commanded  (and  the  silence  came), 
Here  let  the  billows  stiffen  and  have  rest? 

Ye  ice-falls  !    ye  that  from  the  mountain's  brow 
Adown  enormous  ravines  slope  amain — 
Torrents,  methinks,  that  heard  a  mighty  voice, 
And  stopped  at  once  amid  their  maddest  plunge  ! 
Motionless  torrents,  silent  cataracts, 
Who  made  you  glorious  as  the  gates  of  Heaven 
Beneath  the  keen  full  moon  ?     Who  bade  the  sun 
Clothe  you  with  rainbows?     Who,  with  living  flowers 
Of  loveliest  blue,  spread  garlands  at  your  feet? — 
God  !    let  the  torrents,  like  a  shout  of  nations, 
Answer !    and  let  the  ice-plains  echo,  God ! 
God !    sing,  ye  meadow-streams,  with  gladsome  voice  ! 
Ye  pine-groves,  with  your  soft  and  soul-like  sounds ! 
And  they  too  have  a  voice,  yon  piles  of  snow, 
And  in  their  perilous  fall  shall  thunder,  God ! 

Ye  living  flowers  that  skirt  the  eternal  frost ! 
Ye  wild  goats  sporting  round  the  eagle's  nest! 


TO   MONT   BLANC.  165 

Ye  eagles,  playmates  of  the  mountain-storm  ! 
Ye  lightnings,  the  dread  arrows  of  the  clouds! 
Ye  signs  and  wonders  of  the  element  ! 
Utter  forth  God,  and  fill  the  hills  with  praise  I 

Thou  too,  hoar  Mount,  with  thy  sky-pointing  peaks 
Oft  from  whose  feet  the  avalanche,  unheard, 
Shoots  downward,  glittering  through  the  purr  seren<• 
Into  the  depth  of  clouds,  that  veil  thy  breast, — 
Thou  too  again,  stupendous   Mountain,   thou 
That  as  I  raise  my  bead,  a  while  bowed  low 
In  adoration,  upward  from  thy  base 
Slow  travelling  with  dim  eyee  Buffused  with  tears, 

•only  seemest,  like  a  vapory  cloud, 
To  rise  before  me — Rise,  oh,  ever  rise, 
Rise  like  a  cloud  of  incense,  from  the  earth! 
Thou  kingly  Spirit  throned  among  tin•  hills, 
Thou  dread  ambassador  from  Earth  to  Heaven, 
Great  hierarchl    tell  thou  the  silent  sky, 
And  tell  the  stars,  and  tell  yon  rising  sun. 
Earth,  with  her  thousand  voices,   praises   1 1 

.  Coleridge. 


166 


SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 


^Ah^^o 


A  MIDNIGHT  HYMN. 


Where'er  I  am,  whate'er  I  see, 
Eternal  Lord,  is  full  of  Thee  ! 
I  feel  Thee  in  the  gloom  of  night; 
I  see  Thee  in  the  morning  light. 


Λ    MIL•  HYM  Ι'    , 

λ\  hen  care  distracts  my  anxious  soul, 
Thy  grace  can  every  thoughl  control; 
Thy  word  can  still  the  troubled  heart, 
And  peace  and  confidence  impart. 

If  pain  invade  my  broken  re 

Or  if   corroding  griefs  moi 

Soon  as  the  Comforter  appears, 

My  sighs  are  hushed,   and   dried   my  tears. 

Thy  wisdom  guides,  Thy   will  directs, 
Thy  arm  upholds,   Thy  power  protei  I 
With  Thee    when  I  at  dawn  converse, 
The  shadows  eink,  the  clouds  disperse. 

Then,  as  the  sun  illumes  the  ski 
Oh,  Sun  of   Righteousness,  ar; 
Dispel  the  fogs  of  mental  night, 
Being  of  Beings,  Light  of   Light. 

χ  λ  η   More. 


1 68 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


7^ 


ί^^^ζ  α^η^έ/ 


THE  TRAVELLER'S  EVENING  SONG. 


Father,  guide  me !    Day  declines, 
Hollow  winds  are  in  the  pines ; 
Darkly  waves  each  giant  bough 
O'er  the  sky's  last  crimson  glow ; 
Hushed  is  now  the  convent's  bell, 
Which  erewhile  with  breezy  swell 


THE    TRAVELLER'S    EVENING    SONG.  169 

From  the  purple  mountains  bore 
Greetings  to  the  sunset-shore. 
Now  the  sailor's  vesper-hymn 

Hies  away. 
Father,  in  the  forest  dim, 

Be  my  Stay  ' 

In  the  low  and  shivering  thrill 
01"  the  leaves  that  late  hung  still  : 
In  the  dull  and  muffled  tone 
Of  the  sea  wave's  distant  moan; 
In  the  deep  tints  of  the  sky, 
Tin τβ  are  signs  of  tempest  nigh. 
Ominous,  with  sullen  sound, 
Falls  the  closing  dusk  around. 
Father,  through  the  storm  and  shade 

O'er  the  wild, 
Oh,  be  Thou  the  lone  one's   Aid, — 

Save  Thy  child! 

Many  a   ewifl  and  sounding  plunn• 
Homewards,  through  the  boding  gloom, 
O'er  my  way  hath  flitted  fast 
Since  the  farewell  sunbeam  passed 
From  the  chestnut's  ruddy  bark, 
And  the  pools,   now  lone  and  dark, 
Where  the  wakening  night-winds  eigh 

Through  the  long  r Is  mournfully. 

Homeward,  homeward,  ;J1  things   he 

God  of  might, 
Shield  the  homeless  midst  the  waste, — 

Be  his  Light! 


/ 

170  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

In  his  distant  cradle-nest, 
Now  my  babe  is  laid  to  rest ; 
Beautiful  his  slumber  seems 
With  a  glow  of  heavenly  dreams. 
Beautiful,  o'er  that  bright  sleep, 
Hang  soft  eyes  of   fondness  deep, 
Where  his  mother  bends  to  pray 
For  the  loved  and  far-away. 
Father,  guard  that  household  bower, 

Hear  that  prayer ! 
Back,  through  Thine  all-guiding  power, 

Lead  me  there !  - 

Darker,  wilder  grows  the  night : 
Not  a  star  sends  quivering  light 
Through  the  massy  arch  of  shade 
By  the  stern  old  forest  made. 
Thou  to  whose  unslumbering  eyes 
All  my  pathway  open  lies, 
By  Thy  Son,  who  knew  distress 
In  the  lonely  wilderness, 
Where  no  roof  to  that  blest  head 

Shelter  gave, 
Father,  through  the  time  of  dread, 

Save,  oh,   save  ! 

Mrs.  Hemans. 


THE  ODOR.  1  i   1 


THE  ODOR. 

How  sweetly  dotli  my  master  sound ;    my  master  ! 

As  ambergris  leaves  a  rich  scent 
Unto  the  taster : 

So  do  these  words  a  sweet  content, 
An  oriental  fragrancy  :    my  master  ! 

With  these  all  day  Τ  do  perfume  my  mind. 

My  mind  even  thrust  into  them  1  >oth 
That  I  might  find 

What  cordials  make  this  curious  broth, 
This  broth  of  smells,  thai   feeds  and  fate  my  mind. 

My  master,  shall  I  sponk-.'     Oh.  that,  to  Thee, 

My  SERVANT  were  a  little  - 
As  flesh  may  be : 

That  these  two  words  might  creep  and 
To  some  degree  of  spiciness  to  Th< 


172  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Then  should  the  Pomander,  which  was  before 
A  speaking  sweet,  mend  by  reflection, 

And  tell  me  more. 
For  pardon  of   my  imperfection 

Would  warm  and  work  it  sweeter  than  before. 

For  when  my  master  (which  alone  is  sweet, 
And  even  in  my  unworthiness  pleasing) 

Shall  call,  and  meet 
My  servant,  as  Thee  not  displeasing ; 

That  call  is  but  the  breathing  of  the  sweet. 

This  breathing  would  with  gains,  by  sweetening  me 
(As  sweet  things  traffic  when  they  meet), 

Return  to  Thee ; 
And  so  this  new  commerce  and  sweet 

Should,  all  my  life,  employ  and  busy  me. 

Herbert. 


iETERNE  RERUM   CONDITOR. 

Framer  of   the  earth  and  sky, 
Ruler  of   the  day  and  night, 

With  a  glad  variety 

Tempering  all  and  making  light. 


STERNE    RERUM    COXDITOIi.  L73 

Gleams  upon  our  dark   path   Hinging, 

Cutting  short  each  night  begun  ; 
Now  Thy  herald  cock  is  singing 

To  our  chant,  and  calls  the  Sun. 

And  the  morning  star  replies, 

And  unlocks  the  imprisoned  day, 
And  the  ungodly  bandit  flies 

From  his  haunt  and  from  his  prey 

Shrill  it  sounds,  the  storm  relenting 
Soothes  the  weary  seaman's  ears ; 

Once  it  wrought  a  great  repenting, 
When  the  Church's  rock  shed  tears. 

Rouse  we ;    let  the  blithesome  cry 

Of   that  bird  our  hearts  awaken, 
Chide  the  slumberers  as  they  lie, 

And  convince  the  sin-o'ertaken. 

Hope  and  health  are  in  his  strain 

To  the  fearful  and  the  ailing ; 
Murder  sheathes  his  blade  profane, 

Faith  revives  whore  faith  was  failing 


•T 


Jesu.  Master,  when  we  sin, 
Turn  on  us  Thy  heal. 

It  will  melt  the  offence  within 
Into  penitential  gri 


II 


174 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Beam  on  our  bewildered  mind, 
Till  its  dreamy  shadows  flee ; 

Stones  cry  out  where  Thou  hast  shined, 
Jesu,  musical  with  Thee. 


LOVE   OF    JE8U8.  175 


LOVE  OF   JESUS. 

I  love  Thee,  Ο  most  gracious  Lord. 
Not  that  Thou  sav'st  me  by  Thy  word ; 
Nor  yet  because  Thy  wrath  shall  doom 
Those  loving  not  to  endless  gloom. 

Thou,  Thou,  my  Jesus,  full  of  grace, 
Didst  me  upon  the  cross  embrace ; 
Didst  bear  the  nails,  the  bloody  spear, 
The  great  disgrace,  the  rabble's  jeer. 

Innumerable  griefs  were  Thine, 
Great  sweats,  and  anguish,  Lord  of  mine ! 
The  pangs  of  death,  and  all  for  me, 
That  I,  poor  wretch,  might  come  to  Th 

Then   why  not  love;  with  all   my  heart? 
Ο  Jesus,  most  beloved  Thou  art ! 
Not  that  Thou  sav'st  my  soul  above, 
Nor  me  condemn'st,  do  Thee  I  love. 

X"i    for  tin;  hope  of  sure  reward, 
But  for  Thy  love,  Ο  blessed  Lord  ' 
My  love  is  Thine,  and  e'er  shall  be, 
Because,   my  King,  Thou  reign'st  o'er  me  I 

C.  C.  Cox. 


176  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  TRAVELLER'S  RETURN. 

Joy  !    the  lost  one  is  restored ! 
Sunshine  comes  to  hearth  and  board 
From  the  far-off  countries  old 
Of  the  diamond  and  red  gold ; 
From  the  dusky  archer  bands, 
Roamers  of  the  fiery  sands ; 
From  the  desert  winds,  whose  breath 
Smites  with  sudden  silent  death ; 
He  hath  reached  his  home  again, 

Where  we  sing 
In  Thy  praise  a  fervent  strain, 

God  our  King ! 

Mightiest,  unto  Thee  he  turned 
When  the  noonday  fiercest  burned ; 
When  the  fountain  springs  were  far, 
And  the  sounds  of  Arab  war 
Swelled  upon  the  sultry  blast, 
And  the  sandy  columns  past, 
Unto  Thee  he  cried;    and  Thou, 
Merciful,  didst  hear  his  vow! 


τιικ  traveller's  return.  177 

Therefore,  unto  Thee  again 

Joy  shall  sing 
M;my  a  sweet  and  thankful  strain, 

God  our  King ! 

Thou   wert  with  him  on  the  main, 
And  the  snowy  mountain-chain, 
And  the  rivers  dark  and  wide, 
Which   through  Indian   forests  glide. 
Thou  didst  guard  him  from  the  wrath 
Of   the  lion  in  his  path, 
And  the  arrows  on  the  breeze, 
And  the  drooping  poison  trees  ; 
Therefore,  from  the  household  train 

Oft  shall  spring 
Unto  Thee  a  blessing  strain, 

God  our  King ! 


a 


Thou  to  his  lone  watching  wife 
Hast  brought  back  the  light  of  life  ; 
Thou  hast  spared  his  loving  child 
Home  to  greet  him  from  the  wild. 
Though  the  suns  of   eastern  skies 
On  his  cheek  have  set  their  dyes, 
Though  long  toils  and  sleepless  cares 
On  his  brow  have  blanched  the  hairs, 
Yet  the  night  of   fear  is  flown. 
He  is  living,  and  our  own ! 
Brethren,  spread  his  festal  board, 
Hang  his  mantle  on  his  sword, 
With  the  armor  on  the  wall, 
While  this  long,  long  silent  hall 

46 


178  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Joyfully  doth  hear  again 

Voice  and  string 
Swell  to  Thee  the  exulting  strain, 

God  our  King ! 

Mrs.  Hemans. 


DAILY  BREAD. 

Day  by  day  the  manna  fell ; 
Oh  to  learn  this  lesson  well ! 
Still  by  constant  mercy  fed, 
Give  us,  Lord,  our  daily  bread. 

"Day  by  day"  the  promise  reads; 
Daily  strength  for  daily  needs : 
Cast  foreboding  fears  away ; 
Take  the  manna  of  to-day. 

Lord,  our  times  are  in  Thy  hand : 
All  our  sanguine  hopes  have  planned 
To  Thy  wisdom  we  resign, 
And  would  mould  our  wills  to  Thine. 

Thou  our  daily  task  shalt  give  ; 
Day  by  day  to  Thee  we  live ; 
So  shall  added  years  fulfil 
Not  our  own,  our  Father's  will. 


DAILY    BREAD. 


17'.) 


Oh  to  live  exempt  from  cave 
By  the  energy  of  prayer ; 
Strong  in  faith,  with  mind  subdued, 
Giowing  yet  with  gratitude  ! 


180 


SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 


NOTHING  FAIR  ON   EARTH  I  SEE. 

Nothing  fair  on  earth  I  see 
But  I  straightway  think  on  Thee ; 
Thou  art  fairest  in  rny  eyes, 
Source  in  whom  all  beauty  lies ! 

When  I  see  the  reddening  dawn 
And  the  golden  sun  of  morn, 
Quickly  turns  this  heart  of  mine 
To  Thy  glorious  form  divine. 

Oft  I  think  upon  Thy  light 
When  the  gray  morn  breaks  the  night ; 
Think,  what  glories  lie  in  Thee, 
Light  of  all  Eternity ! 

When  I  see  the  moon  arise 
'Mid  Heaven's  thousand  golden  eyes, 
Then  I  think,  more  glorious  far 
Is  the  Maker  of  yon  star. 

Or  I  think  in  spring's  sweet  hours, 
When  the  fields  are  gay  with  flowers, 
As  their  varied  hues  I  see, 
What  must  their  Creator  be  ! 


NOTHING    FAIR    O.N    EARTH    I    SEE.  181 

When  along  the  brook  I  wander, 

Or  beside  the  fountain  ponder, 

Straight  my  thoughts  take  wing  and  mount 

Up  to  Thee,  the  purest  Fount. 

Sweetly  sings  the  nightingale ; 
Sweet  the  flute's  soft  plaintive  tale ; 
Sweeter  than  their  richest  tone 
Is  the  name  of  Mary's  Son. 

Sweetly  all  the  air  is  stirred 
When  the  Echo's  call  is  heard ; 
But  no  sounds  my  heart  rejoice 
Like  to  my  Beloved's  voice. 

Come,  then,  fairest  Lord,  appear, 
Come,  let  me  behold  Thee  here  ; 
I  would  see  Thee  face  to  face, 
On  Thy  proper  light  would  gaze. 

Take  away  these  veils  that  blind, 
Jesus,  all  my  soul  and  mind ; 
Henceforth  ever  let  my  heart 
See  Thee  truly  as  Thou  art! 

Angelus. 


Μ 


182 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


ONWARD. 


Come,  brethren,  let  us  go ! 
The  evening  closeth  round, 
'Tis  perilous  to  linger  here 
On  this  wild  desert  ground. 
Take  courage  as  ye  wend 

On  towards  eternity ; 

From  strength  to  strength  your  course  shall  be, 
And  good  at  last  your  end. 


ONWARD.  L83 

We  shall  not  rue  our  choice, 

Though  strait   our  path  and  steep; 
We  know  that  He  who  called  us  here 

His  word  shall  ever  keep. 

Then  follow,  trusting ;    come, 
And  let  each  set  his  face 
Toward  yonder  fair  and  blessed  pin 

Intent  to  reach  our  home. 

The  body  and  the  house 
Deck  not,  but  deck  the  heart 
AVith  all  your  powers ;    we  are  but  guests, 
Ere  long  we  must  depart. 
Ease  brings  disease ;   content 
Howe'er  his  lot  may  fall, 
A  pilgrim  bears  and  bows  to  all, 
For  soon  the  time  is  spent. 

Come,  children,  let  us  go ! 

Our  Father  is  our  guide ; 
And  when  the  way  grows  steep  and  dark. 

He  journeys  at  our  side. 

Our  spirits  H<>  would  cheer; 
The  sunshine  of  His  love 
Revives  and  helps  us  as  we  rove; 

Ah,  blest  our  lot  e'en  h< 

Each  lia-t • π  bravely  on  ; 

\"t    yet  our  goal   is  neai 
Look  to  the  fury  pillar  oft. 
That  tells  til•1  Lord  is  h 


184  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Onward  your  glances  send, 

Love  beckons  us,  nor  think 

That  they  who  following  chance  to  sink 
Shall  miss  their  journey's  end. 

Come,  children,  let  us  go ! 
We  travel  hand  in  hand ; 
.  Each  in  his  brother  finds  his  joy 
In  this  wild  stranger  land. 
As  children  let  us  be, 

Nor  by  the  way  fall  out; 
The  angels  guard  us  round  about, 
And  help  us  brotherly. 

The  strong  be  quick  to  raise 

The  weaker  when  they  fall ; 
Let  love  and  peace  and  patience  bloom 

In  ready  help  for  all. 

In  love  yet  closer  bound, 

Each  would  be  least,  yet  still 

On  love's  fair  path  most  pure  from  ill, 

Most  loving,  would  be  found. 

Come,  wander  on  with  joy, 

For  shorter  grows  the  way; 
Each  rising  sun  brings  on  the  time 

When  in  the  grave  we  lay 

The  body  down  ;    a  while 
Have  truth  and  courage  yet, 
Your  hopes  above  more  fully  set, 

Careless  of  things  more  vile. 


ONWARD.  IS•! 

Tt  will  not  last  for  long; 
A  little  farther  roam  ; 
It  will  not  last  much  longer  now 
Ere  we  shall  reach  our  home ; 
There  shall  we  ever  rest, 

There  with  our  Father  dwell, 

With  all  the  saints  who  served  Him  well, 
There  truly,  deeply  blest. 

For  this  all  things  we  dare, — 

'Tis  worth  the  risk,  I  trow, — 
Renouncing  all  that  clogs  our  course, 

Or  weighs  us  down  below. 

Ο  world,  thou  art  too  small; 
We  seek  another,  higher, 
Whither  Christ  guides  us  ever  nigher, 

Where  God  is  all  in  all. 

Friend  of  our  perfect  choice, 

Thou  Joy  of  all  that  live, 
Being  that  know'st  not  chance  or  change, 

What  courage  dost  Thou  give ! 

All  beauty,  Lord,  we  see, 
All  bliss  and  life  and  love, 
In  Him  in  whom  we  live  and  move, 

And  we  are  glad  in  Thee ! 

Teksteeqen. 


II 


186 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


GREAT   FAITH. 


I  marked  a  rainbow  in  the  north, 
What  time  the  wild  autumnal  sun 

From  his  dark  veil  at  noon  looked  forth, 
As  glorying  in  his  course  half  done, 

Flinging  soft  radiance  far  and  wide 
Over  the  dusky  heaven  and  bleak  hill-side. 

It  was  a  gleam  to  Memory  dear ; 
And  as  I  walk  and  muse  apart, 


GREAT    FAITH. 

When  all  seems  faithless  round  and  drear, 

I  would  revive  it  in  my  heart, 
And  watch  how  lighl   can   find  its  way 
To  regions  farthest  from  the  fount  of  day. 

Light  flashes  in  the  gloomiest  sky, 

And  Music  in  the  dullest  plain, 
For  there   the   lark   is  soaring  high 

Over  her  flat  and  leafless  reign, 
And  chanting  in  so  blithe  a  tone. 
It  shames  the   weary   heart  to   feel   itself   alone. 

Brighter  than  rainbow  in  the  north, 

More  cheery  than  the  matin   lark, 
Is  the  soft  gleam  of  Christian  worth 

Which  on   some   holy   house   we   mark  : 
Dear  to  the  pastor's  aching  heart 
To  think,  where'er  he  looks,  such  gleam  may  have  a  part  ; 

M::v  dwell,  unseen  by  all  but  Heaven, 

lake  diamond   blazing  in   the   mine; 
For  ever,   where  such  grace  is  given, 

It    fears  in  open   day  to  shine, 
Lest  the  deep  stain  it  owns  within 
Break  out,  and  Faith  be  shamed  by   the  believer's  sin. 

In  silence  and  afar  they   wait, 
To  find  a  prayer  their  Lord  may  hear 

Voice  of   the  poor  and  desolate. 

Yon    best    may    bring   it    t - .    His   car. 

Your  grateful    intercession-    I 
With  morQ  than  royal  pomp,  and  pierce  the  skies. 


188  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Happy  the  soul  whose  precious  cause 
You  in  the  Sovereign  Presence  plead : 

"This  is  the  lover  of   Thy  laws, 

The  friend  of   Thine  in  fear  and  need:" 

For  to  the  poor  Thy  mercy  lends 
That  solemn  style,   "Thy  nation  and  Thy  friends." 

He  too  is  blest  whose  outward  eye 

The  graceful  lines  of  art  may  trace, 
While  his  free  spirit,  soaring  high, 

Discerns  the  glorious  from  the  base  ; 
Till  out  of  dust  his  magic  raise 
A  home  for  prayer  and  love,  and  full  harmonious  praise, 

Where,   far  away  and  high  above, 

In  maze  on  maze  the  tranced  sight 
Strays,  mindful  of  that  heavenly  love 

Which  knows  no  end  in  depth  or  height, 
While  the  strong  breath  of  Music  seems 
To  waft  us  ever  on,  soaring  in  blissful  dreams. 

What  though  in  poor  and  humble  guise 
Thou  here  didst  sojourn,  cottage-born  ? 

Yet  from  Thy  glory  in  the  skies 

Our  earthly  gold  Thou  dost  not  scorn. 

For  Love  delights  to  bring  her  best, 
And  where  Love  is,  that  offering•  evermore  is  blest. 


"& 


Love  on  a  Saviour's  dying  head 

Her  spikenard  drops  unblamed  may  pour, 
May  mount  His  cross,  and  wrap  Him  dead 

In  spices  from  the  golden  shore ; 


CATECHISM.  189 

Risen,  may  embalm  His  - a<  red  name 
With  all  a  Painter's  art,  and  all  a  Minstrel's  flame. 

Worthless  and  lost  our  offerings  seem, 

Drops  in  the  ocean  of  His  praise ; 
But  Mercy  with  her  genial  beam 

Is  ripening  them  to  pearly  blaze, 
To  sparkle  in  His  crown  above, 
Who  welcomes  here  a  child's  as  there  an  angel's  love. 

Keble. 


CATECHISM. 


Oh,  say  not,  dream  not,  heavenly  notes 

To  childish  ears  are  vain, 
That  the  young  mind  at  random  float.-. 

Ami  cannot  reach  the  strain. 

Dim  or  unheard,   the  words  may  fall. 

Ami  yet   the   Eeaven-taughl   mind 
May   learn   the  sacred  air,   and  all 

The  harmony  unwind. 

-  not  our  Lord  a  little  child, 
Taught  by  degrees  to  pray, 

4. « 


190 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


By  father  dear  and  mother  mild 
Instructed  day  by  day? 


And  loved  He  not  of   Heaven  to  talk 
With  children  in  His  sight, 


CATECHISM.  191 

To  meet  them  in  His  daily  walk, 
And  to  His  arms  invite  ? 

What  though  around  His  throne  of   fire 

The  everlasting  chant 
Be  wafted  from  the  seraph  choir 

In  glory  jubilant  ? 

Yet  stoops  He,  ever  pleased  to  mark 

Our  rude  essays  of    love, 
Faint  as  the  pipe  of   wakening  lark 

Heard  by  some  twilight  grove 

Yet  is  He  near  us,  to  survey 

These  bright   and  ordered  files, 
Like  spring-flowers  in  their  best  array, 

All  silence  and  all  smil• 

Save  that  each  little  voice  in  turn 

Some  glorious  truth   proclaims. 
What  sages  would  have  died  to  learn, 

Xow  taught   by  cottage  dames. 

And  if   some  tones   lie   false  or  low, 

What   arc  nil   prayers  beneath. 
But   cries  of   babes,   that   cannot  know 

Half    the   deep  thought    they   breathe? 

In  His  own  words  we  Christ  adore. 
Bui  angels,  as  we  speak, 


192  SCXSGS    OF    PKAISE. 

Higher  above  our  meaning  soar 
Than  we  o'er  children  weak : 

And  yet  His  words  mean  more  than  they, 
And  yet  He  owns  their  praise  : 

Why  should  we  think  He  turns  away 
From  infants'  simple  lays  ? 

Keble. 


MY   FATHER'S  AT  THE  HELM. 

'Twas  when  the  sea's  tremendous  roar 

A  little  bark  assailed, 
And  pallid  fear,  with  awful  power, 

O'er  each  on  board  prevailed : 

Save  one,  the  captain's  darling  son, 
Who  fearless  viewed  the  storm, 

And  playful  with  composure  smiled 
At  danger's  threatening  form. 

"  Why  sporting  thus,"  a  seaman  cried, 
"Whilst  sorrows  overwhelm?" 

"Why  yield  to  grief?"    the  boy  replied; 
"My  father's  at  the  helm." 


ABIDE    WITH    ME.  193 

i 

Despairing  soul,  from  thence  be  taught 

How  groundless  is  thy  fear ; 
Think  on  what  wonders  Christ  has  wrought, 

And  He  is  always  near. 

Safe  in  His  hands,  whom  seas  obey, 

When  swelling  billows  rise, 
Who  turns  the  darkest  night  to  day, 

And  brightens  lowering  skies : 

Though  thy  corruptions  rise  abhorred, 

And  outward  foes  increase , 
'Tis  but  for  Him  to  speak  the  word, 

And  all  is  hushed  to  peace. 

Then  upward  look,  howe'er  distressed 

Jesus  will  guide  thee  home, 
To  that  blest  port  of  endless  rest, 

Where  storms  shall  never  come. 


ABIDE   WITH   ME. 

Abide  with  mi        I    -t   tails  the  eventide; 
The  darkness  thickens :    Lord,  with  me  abide ; 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of   the  helples9,  oh,  abide  with  me  ! 

40 


194 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see ; 
Ο  Thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me 


Not  a  brief  glance  I  beg,  a  passing  word, 

But  as  Thou  dwell'st  with  Thy  disciples,  Lord, — 


ABIDE    WITH    MK.  195 

Familiar,  condescending,  patient,  ft•• 
Come  not  to  sojourn,  but  abide  with  me. 

Come  not  in  terrors,  as  the  King  of  kings, 
But  kind  and  good,  with  healing  in  Thy  wings; 
Tears  for  all  woes,  a  heart  for  every  plea ; 
Come.  Friend  of  sinners,  thus  abide  with   ι 

Thou  on  my  head  in  early  youth  didst  smile, 
An. I.  though  rebellious  and  perverse  meanwhile, 
Thou  hast  not  left  me,  oft  as  I  left  Thee ; 
On  to  the  close,  Ο  Lord,  abide  with  me. 

I  need  Thy  presence  every  passing  hour : 
Whai   but  Thy  grace  can  foil  the  tempter's  power? 
Who  like  Thyself  my  Guide  and  Stay  can  be? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  oh,  abide  with  me  ! 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  Thee  at  hand  to  bless: 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness: 
Where  is  Death's  sting?    where,   Grave,   thy   victory.' 
1  triumph  still,  if  Thou  abide  with  me ! 

Hold  Thou  Thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes, 

Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies : 

Heaven's  morning  breaks,  ami  earth's  vain  shadows  flee: 

In  life,  in  death,  Ο  Lord,  abide  with  □ 

Lyte. 


196 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


CUR  MUKDUS  MILITAT? 


Why  battles  all  the  world 
For  its  vain  glory, 

Whose  bravest  happiness 
Is  transitory  ? 


CUR   MUNDUS    MILITAT?  197 

So  soon  its  brittle  power 

A  light  touch  shaketh, 
Even  as  a  vase  of  clay 

In  pieces  breaketh. 

Write  words  upon  the  ice, 

And  trust  their  staying, 
Sooner  than  idle  cheats 

Of  earth  decaying. 

Flattered  with  baubles  gay, 

In  Truth's  mask  hiding, 
Thy  life's  a  little  day 

Of   false  contiding. 

Better  to  plant  thy  trust 

In  wise  men's  teaching, 
Than  for  the  wretched  gauds 

Of   Fortune  reaching. 

False  are  its  very  dreams, 
And  false  its  pleasing, 

Its   labors   and   its   lusts 
Λ    hollow   leasing. 

9   .-.  where  is  Solomon, 
Of  wisdom  Taunted, 

Samson  now, 
The  chief  undaunted? 

bay.  where  is  Absalom, 
Of  beauty  royal, 

50 


198  SONGS    OF    PBAISE. 

And  Jonathan,  the  heart 
To  friendship  loyal? 

Where  hath  the  Csesar  left 
His  empire  splendid? 

Where  Dives'  banqueting 
In  sorrow  ended? 

Say,  where  is  Tully's  voice, 
In  senates  burning? 

And  the  wise  Stagyrite, 
Master  of  learning? 

Such  leaders  of  renown ; 

Such  bygone  spaces ; 
Such  stately  brows  of  old, 

Such  kingly  races ; 

Such  potentates  of   earth, 
The  boast  of   story  : — 

One  flashing  of  an  eye, 
And  gone  their  glory ! 

How  brief  a  holy  day 
Man's  pomp  abideth, 

And  all  his  pleasure  gay 
A  shadow  glideth ! 

Feast  of  the  crawling  worm ! 

Dust  to  dust  crumbled ! 
Drop  of  the  morning  dew ! 

Be  thy  pride  humbled. 


Ι  ΓΙ,    &IUNDU8    MILJ;  199 

Even  to-morrow   li< 

Veiled  from  thy  blindnesa; 
Crowd  thou  to-day  with  deeds 

Of  loving-kindness. 

This  glory  of  the  flesh, 

Winch  man  paradeth, 
The  Holy  Book  doth  call 

A  flower  that    iadeth. 

Even  as  the  shrivelled  leaf 

On  the  wind  sweeping, 
So  drops  the  life  of  man, 

To  darkness  creeping. 

Call  not  thine  own  whate'er 

A  moment  livetli  ; 

world  shall  snatch  again 
All   thai    it  giveth. 


6J 


Ponder  the  things  above  ' 
There  thy  heart's  treasure 

I  hippy,  who  know-  to  scorn 
The  low  world's  pleasure  I 


Washbubh. 


200 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


BITTER  REPENTANCE. 


"And  is  there  in  God's  world  so  drear  a  place 
Where  the  loud  bitter  cry  is  raised  in  vain? 


BITTBB    REPENTANCE.  20] 

Where  tears  of   penance  come  too  late  for  gra 
As  on  the  uprooted  flower  the  genial  rain'.' 

'Tis  even  so  :    the  sovereign  Lord  of  souls 

Stores  in  the  dungeon  of   His  boundless  realm 

Each  bolt,   that  o'er  the  sinner  vainly  rolls, 
\\  ith  gathered   wrath  the  reprobate  to  whelm. 

Will  the  storm  hear  the  sailor's  piteous  cry, 
Taught  to  mistrust,  too  late,   the  tempting  wave 

a  all  around  he  sees  but  sea  and  sky, 
A  God  in  anger,  a  self-chosen  crave  ? 


Or  will  the  thorns  that  strew  intemperance'  bed 
Turn   with  a   wish  to  down?    will   late  r 

Recall  the  shaft  the  murderer's  hand  has  sped, 
Or  from  the  guiltless  bosom  turn  its  course? 

Then  may  the  unbodied  soul  in  safety  0 

Through  the  dark  curtains  of  the  world  abov 

Fresh  from  the  stain  of  crime,  nor  fear  to  m< 
The  God  whom  here  ehe  would   not   learn  to  love 

Then  is  there  hope  for  such  as  die  unbl 

That   angel   wings  may   watt   them   to  tin•  ehor» 

need  the  unready  virgin  strike  h.a•  bn 
Nor  wait  desponding  round  the  bridegroom's  door. 

But  where  is  then  the  sti  intrite  bearl 

Of  old  they  I  Thy  eternal 

ι 


202  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

But  with  the  sinner's  fear  their  hope  departs, 

Fast  linked  as  Thy  great  Name  to  Thee,  Ο  Lord. 

That  Name,  by  which  Thy  faithful  oath  is  past, 
That  we  should  endless  be,  for  joy  or  woe  : — 

And  if  the  treasures  of  Thy  wrath  could  waste, 
Thy  lovers  must  their  promised  Heaven  forego. 

But  ask  of   elder  days,  earth's  vernal  hour, 
When  in  familiar  talk  God's  voice  was  heard, 

When  at  the  Patriarch's  call  the  fiery  shower 
Propitious  p'er  the  turf-built  shrine  appeared. 

Watch  by  our  father  Isaac's  pastoral  door, — 
The  birthright  sold,  the  blessing  lost  and  won, 

Tell,  Heaven  has  wrath  that  can  relent  no  more, 
The  Grave,  dark  deeds  that  cannot  be  undone. 

We  barter  life  for  pottage  ;    sell  true  bliss 

For  wealth  or  power,  for  pleasure  or  renown  ; 

Thus,  Esau-like,  our  Father's  blessing  miss, 

Then  wash  with  fruitless  tears  our  faded  crown. 

Our  faded  crown,  despised  and  flung  aside, 

Shall  on  some  brother's  brow  immortal  bloom ; 

No  partial  hand  the  blessing  may  misguide, 

No  flattering  fancy  change  our  Monarch's  doom: 

His  righteous  doom,  that  meek  true-hearted  Love 
The  everlasting  birthright  should  receive, 


A    TRUE    HYMN  203 

The  softest  dews  drop  on   her  from  above, 

The  richest  green  her  mountain  garland  weave : 

Her  brethren,  mightiest,  wisest,  eldest-born. 
Bow  to  her  sway,  and  move  at  her  behest 

Isaac's  fond  blessing  may  not  fall  on  scorn, 

Xor  Balaam's  curse  on  Love,  which  God  hath  blest. 

K.EBLE. 


A  TRUE  HYMN. 

My  Joy,   my  Life,  my  frown! 
My  heart  was  meaning  all  the  day, 

Somewhat  it  lain  would  say  ; 
And  still  it  runneth,  muttering  up  and  down, 
With  only  this,  My  Joy,  my  Life,  my  Crown  ' 

Yet  slight  not  these  few  words ; 
If  truly  said,  they  may  take  pari 
Among  the  best  in  art. 
The  fineness,  which  a  hymn  or  psalm  affords, 
Is,  when  the  soul  unto  the  lines  accord- 
He,  who  craves  all  the  mind, 
And  all  the  soul,  and  strength,  and  time, 
If  the  words  only  rhyme, 


204  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Justly  complains  that  somewhat  is  behind 
To  make  his  verse,  or  write  a  hymn  in  kind. 


Whereas,  if  the  heart  be  moved, 
Although  the  verse  be  somewhat  scant, 

God  doth  supply  the  want. 
As  when  the  heart  says,   sighing  to  be  approved, 
"Oh,  could  I  love!"    and  stops:    God  writeth,  Loved. 

Herbert. 


LOVE  OF  GOD. 

I  love  Thee,  Ο  Thou  God  of  mine, 
Because  Thou  first  hast  love'd  me : 

And  all  my  liberty  resign 

That  I  may  willing  follow  Thee. 

Nothing  that  memory  can  suggest, 
But  doth  with  Thy  effulgence  blend ; 

The  mind's  extremest  range,  at  best. 
Thy  greatness  fails  to  comprehend. 


W1IA1    WE5T    YK    OUT    TO    Β]  205 

Nothing,  0  Lord,  will  I  desire 
Not  sanctioned  by  Thy  holy  will; 

All   things  are  Thine  That  I  acquire, 
All  Τ  bestow.  Thy  bounty  still. 

Take  from  me  all  Thy  gifts  reveal ; 

Resume  whatever  pleaseth  Thee  ; 
Direct  me  as  Thou  wilt,  I  feel 

Tn  every  acl   Thou  lovest  me. 

Oh,  grant  me  but  Thy  love  divine, 
My  love  for  Thee  will  reign  supreme  ; 

Grant  this,  and  all  things  else  are  mine, 
Without  it  life  is  but  a  dream. 

C.  C.  Cox. 


WHAT   WENT   YE   OUT   TO  SEE? 

What  went  ye  out  I 

O'er  the  rude  sandy  lea. 
Where  stately  Jordan  flows  by  many  a   palm, 

Or  where  Gennesaret'e  wave 

Delights  the  flowers  to  1: 
That  on•  her  western  elope  breathe  airs  of   halm? 


206  SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 

All  through  the  summer  night, 

Those  blossoms  red  and  bright 
Spread  their  soft  breasts,  unheeding,  to  the  breeze, 

Like  hermits  watching  still 

Around  the  sacred  hill, 
Where  erst  our  Saviour  watched  upon  His  knees. 

The  Paschal  moon  above 

Seems  like  a  saint  to  rove, 
Left  shining;  in  the  world  with  ■  Christ  alone  ; 

Below,  the  lake's  still  face 

Sleeps  sweetly  in  the  embrace 
Of  mountains  terraced  high  with  mossy  stone. 

Here  may  we  sit,  and  dream 

Over  the  heavenly  theme, 
Till  to  our  soul  the  former  days  return  ; 

Till  on  the  grassy  bed, 

Where  thousands  once  He  fed, 
The  world's  incarnate  Maker  we  discern. 

Oh,   cross  no  more  the  main, 

Wandering  so  wild  and  vain, 
To  count  the  reeds  that  tremble  in  the  wind, 

On  listless  dalliance  bound, 

Like  children  gazing  round, 
Who  on  God's  works  no  seal  of  Godhead  find : 

Bask  not  in  courtly  bower, 
Or  sun-bright  hall  of  power; 
Pass  Babel  quick,  and  seek  the  holy  land ; 


WHAT    WENT    YE    OUT    TO    SEE 


207 


From  robes  of   Tvrian  dve 
Turn  with  undazzled  ι 
To  Bethlehem's  glade,  or  Carmel's  haunted  strand. 


Or  choose  thee  out  a  cell 
Γη  Kedron's  etoried  dell, 

le  the  springs  of  Low.  that  never  d 
Among  the  olives  kneel 
The  chill  night-blast  to  feel, 
And  watch  the  Moon  that  saw  thy  MasterV  agony. 


208  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Then  rise  at  dawn  of  day 

And  wind  thy  thoughtful  way 
Where  rested  once  the  Temple's  stately  shade, 

With  due  feet  tracing  round 

The  city's  northern  bound, 
To  th'  other  holy  garden,  where  the  Lord  was  laid. 

Who  thus  alternate  see 

His  death  and  victory, 
Rising  and  falling  as  on  angel  wings, 

They,  while  they  seem  to  roam, 

Draw  daily  nearer  home, 
Their  heart  untravelled  still  adores  the  King  of  kings. 

Or,  if  at  home  they  stay, 

Yet  are  they,  day  by  day, 
In  spirit  journeying  through  the  glorious  land, 

Not  for  light  Fancy's  reed, 

ISTor  Honor's  purple  meed, 
Nor  gifted  Prophet's  lore,  nor  Science'  wondrous  wand. 

But  more  than  Prophet,  more 

Than  Angels  can  adore 
With  face  unveiled,  is  He  they  go  to  seek  : 

Blessed  be  God,   Whose  grace 

Shows  Him  in  every  place 
To  homeliest  hearts  of  pilgrims  pure  and  meek  ! 

Keble. 


DOVE,    LEAF,    AND    BOW.  209 


DOVE,   LEAF,   AXD   BOW. 

Sweet  Dove  !    the  softest,  steadiest  plume 

In  all  the  sunbright  sky, 
Brightening  in  ever-changeful  bloom 

As  breezes  change  on  high ; — 

Sweet  Leaf!    the  pledge  of  peace  and  mirth, 
"  Long  sought,  and  lately  won," 

Blest  increase  of  reviving  Earth, 
When  first  it  felt  the  Sun  ; — 

Sweet  Rainbow  !    pride  of   summer  days, 
High  set  at  Heaven's  commaml, 

Though  into  drear  and  dusky  haze 
Thou  melt  on  either  hand  ; — 

Dear  tokens  of  a  pardoni; 

We  liaii  ye,  one  and  all, 
Aa  when  our  fathers  walked  abroad, 
eed  from  their  twelvemonth's  thrall. 

How  joyful  from  the  imprisoning  ark 
the  green  earth  they  epring! 

53 


210  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Not  blither,  after  showers,  the  Lark 
Mounts  up  with  glistening  wing. 

So  home-bound  sailors  spring  to  shore, 

Two  oceans  safely  past ; 
So  happy  souls,  when  life  is  o'er, 

Plunge  in  the  empyreal  vast. 

What  wins  their  first  and  fondest  gaze 

In  all  the  blissful  field, 
And  keeps  it  through  a  thousand  days  ? 

Love  face  to  face  revealed : 

Love  imaged  in  that  cordial  look 

Our  Lord  in  Eden  bends 
On  souls  that  sin  and  earth  forsook 

In  time  to  die  His  friends. 

And  what  most  welcome  and  serene 
Dawns  on  the  Patriarch's  eye, 

In  all  the  emerging  hills  so  green, 
In  all  the  brightening  sky? 

What  but  the  gentle  rainbow's  gleam, 
Soothing  the  wearied  sight, 

That  cannot  bear  the  solar  beam, 
With  soft  undazzling  light? 

Lord,  if  our  fathers  turned  to  Thee 
With  such  adoring  gaze, 


DOVE,    LEAF,    AXD    BOW.  211 

Wondering  frail  man  Thy  light  should  sec 
Without  Thy  scorching  blaze ; 

Where  is  our  love,  and  where  our  hearts, 

We  who  have  seen  Thy  Son, 
Have  tried  Thy  Spirit's  winning  arts, 

And  yet  we  are  not  won0 

The  Son  of  God  in  radiance  beamed 

Too  bright  for  us  to  scan  ; 
But  we  may  face  the  rays  that  streamed 

From  the  mild  Son  of  Man. 

There,  parted  into  rainbow  hues, 

In  sweet  harmonious  strife, 
We  see  celestial  love  diffuse 

Its  light  o'er  Jesus'  life. 


- 


God,  by  His  bow,  vouchsafes  to  writo 
This  truth  in  Heaven  above  ; 

As  every  lovely  hue  is  Light, 
So  every  grace  is  Love 


Keble. 


212 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


MISSIONARY   HYMN. 


From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  -sand, 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  error's  chain. 


MIS8I0NABY    BYMN.  213 

What  though  the  spicy  breezes 

Blow  soft  o'er  Ceylon's  isle, 
Though  every  prospect  pleases, 

And  only  man  is  vile  : 
In  vain  with  lavish  kdndm 

The  gifts  of  God  are  strown; 
The  heathen  in   his  blindness 

Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone. 

Can  we,  whose  souls  are  lighted 

With  wisdom  from  on  high, 
Can  we  to  men  benighted 

The  lamp  of  life  deny'.' 
Salvation,  oh,  salvation, 

The  joyful  sound  proclaim, 
Till  each  remotest  nation 

Has  learned  Messiah's  name. 

Waft,  waft,  ye  winds,  His  storv, 

And  you,  ye  waters,  roll, 
Till  like  a  sea  of  glory 

It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole  ' 
Till  o'er  our  ransomed  nature, 

The  Lamb  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 

In  bliss  returns  to  reign  ' 

Heber. 


51 


214  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


EASTER  EVEN. 

Rest  of  the  weary !     Thou 

Thyself  art  resting  now, 
Where  lowly  in  Thy  sepulchre  Thou  liest ; 

From  out  her  deathly  sleep 

My  soul  doth  start,  to  weep 
So  sad  a  wonder,  that  Thou,  Saviour,  diest ! 

Thy  bitter  anguish  o'er, 

To  this  dark  tomb  they  bore 
Thee,  Life  of  life — Thee,  Lord  of   all  creation  ! 

The  hollow  rocky  cave 

Must  serve  Thee  for  a  grave, 
Who  wast  Thyself   the  Rock  of  our  salvation. 

Ο  Prince  of  Life  !    I  know 

That  when  I  too  lie  low, 
Thou  wilt  at  last  my  soul  from  death  awaken : 

Wherefore  I  will  not  shrink 

From  the  grave's  awful  brink  ; 
The  heart  that  trusts  in  Thee  shall  ne'er  be  shaken. 

To  me  the  darksome  tomb 
Is  but  a  narrow  room, 
Where  I  may  rest  in  peace,  from  sorrow  free. 


ADVENT    SUNDAY.  215 

Thy  death  shall  give  me  power 
To  cry,   in   that  dark  hour, 
Ο  Death,  Ο  Grave,  where  is  your  victory  '.' 

The  grave  can  naught  destroy, 

Only  the  flesh  can  die, 
And  e'en  the  body  triumphs  o'er  decay  : 

Clothed  by  Thy  wondrous  might 

In  robes  of  dazzling  light, 
This  flesh  shall  burst  the  grave  at  that  last  day. 

My  Jesus,  day  by  day, 

Help  me  to  watch  and  pray 
Beside  the  tomb  where  in  my  heart  Thou'rt  laid. 

Thy  bitter  death  shall  be 

My  constant  memory, 
My  guide  at  last  into  Death's  awful  shade. 

Franck. 


ADVENT  SUNDAY. 

Awake  !    again  the  Gospel  trump  is  blown  ! 

From  year  to  year  it  swells  with  louder  toil•• ; 

From  year  to  year  the  signs  of   wrath 

Are  gathering  round  the  Judge's  path. 
Strange  words  fulfilled,  and  mighty  works  achi< 
And  truth  in  all  the  world  both  hated  and  believed 


216  SCXNGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Awake  !    why  linger  in  the  gorgeous  town, 

Sworn  liegemen  of  the  Cross  and  thorny  crown  ? 

Up  from  your  beds  of   sloth,  for  shame, 

Speed  to  the  eastern  mount  like  flame, 
Nor  wonder  should  ye  find  your  King  in  tears, 
Even  with  the  loud  Hosanna  ringing  in  His  ears. 

Alas  !    no  need  to  rouse  them  :    long  ago 
They  are  gone  forth  to  swell  Messiah's  show  : 
With  glittering  robes  and  garlands  sweet 
They  strew  the  ground  beneath  His  feet : 
All  but  your  hearts  are  there — Ο  doomed  to  prove 
The  arrows  winged  in  Heaven  for  Faith  that  will  not  love. 

Meanwhile  He  paces  through  the  adoring  crowd, 

Calm  as  the  march  of  some  majestic  cloud, 

That  o'er  wild  scenes  of  ocean-war 

Holds  its  still  course  in  heaven  afar : 
Even  so,  heart-searching  Lord,  as  years  roll  on, 
Thou  keepest  silent  watch  from  Thy  triumphal  throne  : 

Even  so,  the  world  is  thronging  round  to  gaze 

On  the  dread  vision  of   the  latter  days, 

Constrained  to  own  Thee,  but  in  heart 

Prepared  to  take  Barabbas'  part : 
"Hosanna"  now,  to-morrow  "Crucify," 
The  changeful  burden  still  of  their  rude  lawless  cry. 

Yet  in  that  throng  of   selfish  hearts  untrue 
Thy  sad  eye  rests  upon  Thy  faithful  few; 


AD  VEST    SUNDAY. 


217 


Children  and  childlike  souls  are  there, 

Blind  Bartimeus'  humble  prayer, 
A  in  I  Lazarus  wakened  from  his  four  days'  sleep, 
Enduring  life  again,  that  Passover  to  keep. 


And  fast  beside  the  olive-bordered  way 

Stands  the  blest  home,  where  Jesus  deigned  to  stay 
The  peaceful  home,  to  Zeal  sincere 
And   heavenly   Contemplation   dear. 


218  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Where  Martha  loved  to  wait  with  reverence  meet, 
And  wiser  Mary  lingered  at  Thy  sacred  feet. 

Still  through  decaying  ages  as  they  glide, 

Thou  lov'st  Thy  chosen  remnant  to  divide ; 

Sprinkled  along  the  waste  of  years 

Full  many  a  soft  green  isle  appears : 
Pause  where  we  may  upon  the  desert  road, 
Some  shelter  is  in  sight,  some  sacred  safe  abode. 

When  withering  blasts  of  error  swept  the  sky, 

And  Love's  last  flower  seemed  fain  to  droop  and  die, 

How  sweet,  how  lone  the  ray  benign 

On  sheltered  nooks  of  Palestim 
Then  to  his  early  home  did  Love  repair, 
And  cheered  his  sickening  heart  with  his  own  native  air. 


S3 


Years  roll  away:    again  the  tide  of   crime 

Has  swept  Thy  footsteps  from  the  favored  clime. 

Where  shall  the  holy  Cross  find  rest  ? 

On  a  crowned  monarch's  maile'd  breast : 
Like  some  bright  angel  o'er  the  darkling  scene, 
Through  court  and  camp  he  holds  his  heavenward  course 


serene. 


A  fouler  vision  yet ;    an  age  of  light, 
Light  without  love,  glares  on  the  aching  sight ; 
Oh,  who  can  tell  how  calm  and  sweet, 
Meek  Walton,  shows  thy  green  retreat, 
When,  wearied  with  the  tale  thy  times  disclose, 
The  eye  first  finds  thee  out  in  thy  secure  repose  ? 


THE    PURIFICATION.  219 

Thus  bad  and  good  their  several  warnings  give 

Of  His  approach,  whom  none  may  see  and  live  ; 

Faith's  ear,  with  awful  still  delight, 

Counts  them  like  minute-bells  at  nis;ht, 
Keeping  the  heart  awake  till  dawn  of  morn, 
While  to  her  funeral  pile  this  aged  world  is  borne. 

But  what  are  Heaven's  alarms  to  hearts  that  cower 

In  wilful  slumber,  deepening  every  hour, 

That  draw  their  curtains  closer  round 

The  nearer  swells  the  trumpet's  sound  ? 
Lord,  ere  our  trembling  lamps  sink  down  and  die, 
Touch  us  with  chastening  hand,  and  make  us  feel  Thee  nigh. 

Keble. 


THE   PURIFICATION. 

Blest  are  the  pure  in  heart, 
For  they  shall  see  our  God, 
The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  theirs, 
Their  soul  is  Christ's  abode. 

Might  mortal  thought  presume 
To  guess  an  angel's  lay. 
Such  are  the  notes  that  echo  through 
The  courts  of   Heaven  to-day. 


220  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Such  the  triumphal  hymns 
On  Sion's  Prince  that  wait ; 
In  high  procession  passing  on 
Towards  His  temple-gate. 

Give  ear,  ye  kings :  bow  down, 
Ye  rulers  of  the  earth: 
This,  this  is  He  ;    your  Priest  by  grace, 
Your  God  and  King  by  birth. 

No  pomp  of  earthly  guards 
Attends  with  sword  and  spear, 
And  all-defying,  dauntless  look, 

Their  monarch's  way  to  clear ; 

Yet  are  there  more  with  Him 
Than  all  that  are  with  you, — 
The  armies  of   the  highest  Heaven, 
All  righteous,  good,  and  true. 

Spotless  their  robes  and  pure, 
Dipped  in  the  sea  of  light 
That  hides  the  unapproached  shrine 
From  men's  and  angels'  sight. 

His  throne  thy  bosom  blest, 
Ο  Mother  undefiled: 
That  throne,  if  aught  beneath  the  skies, 
Beseems  the  sinless  child. 


THE    PURIFICATION.  221 

Lost  in  high  thoughts,   "whose  son 
The  wondrous  Babe  might  prove," 
Her  guileless  husband  walks  beside, 
Bearing  the  hallowed  dove ; 

Meet  emblem  of  His  vow 
Who  on  this  happy  day 
His  dove-like  soul — best  sacrifice — 
Did  on  God's  altar  lay. 

But  who  is  he,  by  years 
Bowed,  but  erect  in  heart, 
Whose  prayers  are  struggling  with  his  tears? 
"  Lord,  let  me  now  depart, 

"  Now  hath  Thy  servant  seen 
Thy  saving  health,  Ο  Lord : 
'Tis  time  that  I  depart  in  peace, 
According  to  Thy  word." 

Yet  swells  the  pomp :    one  more 
Comes  forth  to  bless  her  God  : 
Full  fourscore  years,  meek  widow,  she 
Her  heavenward  way  hath  trod. 

She  who  to  earthly  joys 
80  long  had  given  farewell 
Now  sees,  unlooked  for,  Heaven  on  earth, 
Christ  in  His  Israel. 

Μ 


222  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Wide  open  from  that  hour 
The  temple-gates  are  set, 
And  still  the  saints  rejoicing  there 
The  holy  Child  have  met. 

Now  count  His  train  to-day, 
And  who  may  meet  Him,  learn  : 
Him  childlike  sires,  meek  maidens,  find, 
Where  pride  can  naught  discern. 

Still  to  the  lowly  soul 
He  doth  Himself  impart, 
And  for  His  cradle  and  His  throne 
Chooseth  the  pure  in  heart. 

Keble. 


WORK. 

What  are  we  set  on  earth  for?     Say,  to  toil, 
Nor  seek  to  leave  thy  tending  of  the  vines, 
For  all  the  heat  o'  the  day,  till  it  declines, 
And  Death's  wild  curfew  shall  from  work  assoil. 
God  did  anoint  thee  with  his  odorous  oil, 
•To  wrestle,  not  to  reign ;    and  He  assigns 
All  thy  tears  over,  like  pure  crystallines, 
For  younger  fellow-workers  of  the  soil 


WORK. 


223 


To  wear  for  amulets.     So  others  shall 

Take  patience,  labor,  to  their  heart  and  hand, 

From  thy  heart,  and  thy  hand,  and  thy  brave  cheer, 

And  God's  grace  fructify  through  thee  to  all. 

The  least  flower  with  a  brimming  cup  may  stand 

And  share  its  dew-drop  with  another  near. 

Mrs.  Browxixg. 


224  SONGS   OF   PRAISE. 


THE  STAR  AND  THE  SCEPTRE. 

Oh  for  a  sculptor's  hand, 

That  thou  mightst  take  thy  stand, 
Thy  wild  hair  floating  on  the  eastern  breeze, 

Thy  tranced  yet  open  gaze 

Fixed  on  the  desert  haze, 
As  one  who  deep  in  heaven  some  airy  pageant  sees. 

In  outline  dim  and  vast 

Their  fearful  shadows  cast 
The  giant  forms  of  empires  on  their  way 

To  ruin  :    one  by  one 

They  tower  and  they  are  gone ; 
Yet  in  the  Prophet's  soul  the  dreams  of  avarice  stay. 

No  sun  or  star  so  bright 

In  all  the  world  of  light 
That  they  should  draw  to  Heaven  his  downward  eye : 

He  hears  the  Almighty's  word, 

He  sees  the  Angel's  sword, 
Yet  low  upon  the  earth  his  heart  and  treasure  lie. 

Lo,  from  yon  argent  field, 
To  him  and  us  revealed, 
One  gentle  Star  glides  down,  on  earth  to  dwell. 


THE    STAR    AND    THE    SCEPTRE.  225 

Chained  as  they  are  below, 
Our  eyes  may  see  it  glow, 
And  as  it  mounts  again,  may  track  its  brightness  well. 

To  him  it  glared  afar, 

A  token  of   wild  war. 
The  banner  of  his  Lord's  victorious  wrath : 

But  close  to  us  it  gleams, 

Its  soothing  lustre  streams 
Around  our  home's  green  walls,  and  on  our  churchway  path. 

We  in•  the  tents  abide 

Which  he  at  distance  eyed 
Like  goodly  cedars  by  the  waters  spread, 

While  seven  red  altar- fires 

Rose  up  in  wavy  spires, 
Where   on  the  mount  he  watched  his  sorceries  dark  and 
dread. 

He  watched  till  morning's  ray 

On  lake  and  meadow  lay, 
And  willow-shaded  streams,  that  silent  sweep 

Around  the  bannered  lines, 

Where  by  their  several  signs 
The  desert-wearied  tribes  in  sight  of   Canaan  sleep. 

He  watched  till  knowledge  came 

Upon  his  soul  like  flame, 
Not  of  those  magic  fires  at  random  caught ; 

But  true  Prophetic  light 

Flashed  o'er  him,  high  and  bright, 
Flashed  once,  and  died  away,  and  left  his  darkened  thought. 

57 


226  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

And  can  he  choose  but  fear 

Who  feels  his  God  so  near 
That,  when  he  fain  would  curse,  his  powerless  tongue 

In  blessing  only  moves? 

Alas !   the  world  he  loves 
Too  close  around  his  heart  her  tangling  veil  hath  flung. 

Sceptre  and  Star  divine, 

Who  in  Thine  inmost  shrine 
Hast  made  us  worshippers,  oh,  claim  Thine  own ; 

More  than  Thy  seers  we  know  : 

Oh,  teach  our  love  to  grow 
Up  to  Thy  heavenly  light,  and  reap  what  Thou  hast  sown. 

Keble, 


WHITSUNDAY. 


When  God  of  old  came  down  from  Heaven. 

In  power  and  wrath  He  came ; 
Before  His  feet  the  clouds  were  riven, 

Half  darkness  and  half  flame. 

Around  the  trembling  mountain's  base 

The  prostrate  people  lay ; 
A  day  of  wrath,  and  not  of  grace,— 

A  dim  and  dreadful  day. 


WHITSUNDAY.  227 

But  when  He  came  the  second  time, 

He  came  in  power  and  love ; 
Softer  than  gale  at  morning  prime 

Hovered  His  holy  Dove. 

The  fires  that  rushed  on  Sinai  down 

In  sudden  torrents  dread, 
Now  gently  light,  a  glorious  crown. 

On  every  sainted  head. 

Like  arrows  went  those  lightnings  forth, 

Winged  with  the  sinner's  doom, 
But  these,  like  tongues,  o'er  all  the  earth 

Proclaiming  life  to  come  : 

And  as  on  Israel's  awe-struck  ear 

The  voice  exceeding  loud, 
The  trump,  that  angels  quake  to  hear. 

Thrilled  from  the  deep,  dark  cloud ; 

So  when  the  Spirit  of  our  God 

Came  down  His  flock  to  find, 
A  voice  from  Heaven  was  heard  abroad, 

A  rushing,  mighty  wind. 

Nor  cloth  the  outward  car  alone 

At  that  high  warning  start 
Conscience  gives  back  the  appalling  tone  ; 

'Tis  echoed  in  the  heart 


228  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

It  fills  the  Church  of  God ;    it  fills 

The  sinful  world  around ; 
Only  in  stubborn  hearts  and  wills 

No  place  for  it  is  found. 

To  other  strains  our  souls  are  set ; 

A  giddy  whirl  of  sin 
Fills  ear  and  brain,  and  will  not  let 

Heaven's  harmonies  come  in. 

Come  Lord,  come  Wisdom,  Love,  and  Power, 

Open  our  ears  to  hear ; 
Let  us  not  miss  the  accepted  hour , 

Save,  Lord,  by  Love  or  Fear. 

Keble. 


JOY  IN  HEAVEN. 

There  was  joy  in  Heaven ! 
There  was  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  this  goodly  world  to  frame 
The  Lord  of  might  and  mercy  came 
Shouts  of  joy  were  heard  on  high, 
And  the  stars  sang  from  the  sky, 
"Glory  to  God  in  Heaven!" 


JOY    IN    HEAVEN.  229 

There  was  joy  in  Heaven ! 
There  was  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  the  billows,  heaving  dark, 
Sank  around  the  stranded  ark, 
And  the  rainbow's  watery  span 
Spake  of  mercy,  hope  to  man, 
And  peace  with  God  in  Heaven ! 

There  was  joy  in  Heaven ! 
There  was  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  of  love  the  midnight  beam 
Dawned  on  the  towers  of  Bethlehem  , 
And  along  the  echoing  hill 
Angels  sang,   "On  earth  good  will, 
And  glory  in  the  Heaven  !" 

There  is  joy  in  Heaven  ' 
There  is  joy  in  Heaven  ! 
When  the  sheep  that   went  astray 
Turns  again  to  virtue's   way  . 
When  the  soul,  by  grace  subdued, 
Sobs  its  prayer  of  gratitude, 
Then  is  there  joy  in  Heaven  ' 

Heber. 


230  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  LILIES. 

Sweet  nurslings  of  the  vernal  skies, 

Bathed  in  soft  airs,  and  fed  with  dew, 
What  more  than  magic  in  you  lies, 

To  fill  the  heart's  fond  view? 
In  childhood's  sports,  companions  gay, 
In  sorrow,  on  Life's  downward  way, 
How  soothing !    in  our  last  decay 
Memorials  prompt  and  true. 

Relics  ye  are  of  Eden's  bowers, 
As  pure,   as  fragrant,  and  as  fair 

As  when  ye  crowned  the  sunshine  hours 
Of  happy  wanderers  there. 

Fallen  all  beside, — the  world  of  life, 

How  is  it  stained  with  fear  and  strife  ! 

In  Reason's  world  what  storms  are  rife, 
What  passions  range  and  glare  ! 

But  cheerful  and  unchanged  the  while 
Your  first  and  perfect  form  ye  show, 

The  same  that  won  Eve's  matron  smile 
In  the  world's  opening  glow. 


HE   LILIES.  231 

The  stars  of  heaven  a  course  eu  lit 

Too  high  above  our  human   thought  ; 
Ye  may  be  found  if  ye  are  sought, 
And  as  we  gaze,  we  know. 

Ye  dwell  beside  our  paths  and  homes, 
Our  of  ein,  our  homes  of  sorrow 

And  guilty  man,  where'er  he  roam 
Your  innocent  mirth  .,v. 

The  bird-;  of  air 

They  cannot  brook  our  el 

But  we  may  our  sol: 

And  come  again   to-morrow. 

Ye  ι 

Nor  may  we 
Your  eilenl   lessons,  tmdescried 

By  all  but  lowly 
For  ye  could  draw  the  adm 
Ot    Him   who  worlds  and   1, 
Your  order  wild,  your  fragrant 

11••  taught   us  he. 

Ye  felt  your  Mak  hour, 

As  when  I 
His  bl• 

Ye  felt  it  all  renewed. 
W  hat  iw,  it'   •  m 

Sweep  rut  I 
Chriel  or  hear-  rm, 

Ye  fear  di 


232 


SONGS   OF   PBAISE. 


Alas !    of  thousand  bosoms  kind, 
That  daily  court  you  and  caress, 

How  few  the  happy  secret  find 
Of  your  calm  loveliness ! 

"  Live  for  to-day !   to-morrow's  light 

To-morrow's  cares  shall  bring  to  sight ; 

Go  sleep  like  closing  flowers  at  night, 
And  Heaven  thy  morn  will  bless." 

Keble. 


EST.   STEPHEN.  233 


ST.   STEPHEN. 

The  Son  of  God  goes  forth  to  war. 

A  kingly  crown  to  gain  : 
His  blood-red  banner  streams  afar : 

Who  follows  in  His  train? 

Who  best  can  drink  his  cnp  of   woe, 

Triumphant  over  pain, 
Who  patient  bears  his  cross  below, 

He  follows  in   If  is  train  ! 

The  martyr  first,   whose  eagle  eye 
Could  pierce  beyond  the  grave  . 

Who  saw  his  Master  in  the  sky, 
And  called  on  Him  to  save. 

Like  Him,   with   pardon  on  his  tongue 

In  midst  of   mortal  pain, 
He  prayed  for  them  that  did  the  wronf 

Who  follows   in   his  train  ? 

A  glorious  hand,  the  chosen  fnv 

On  whom  the  Spirit  came 
Twelw   valiant  their  hope   they   1. 

And  mocked  the  cross  and  flame. 


59 


234  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

They  met  the  tyrant's  brandished  steel, 

The  lion's  gory  mane ; 
They  bowed  their  necks  the  death  to  feel ! 

Who  follows  in  their  train? 

A  noble  army, — men  and  boys, 

The  matron  and  the  maid, 
Around  the  Saviour's  throne  rejoice, 

In  robes  of  light  arrayed. 

They  climbed  the  steep  ascent  of  Heaven, 
Through  peril,  toil,  and  pain ! 

Ο  God,  to  us  may  grace  be  given 
To  follow  in  their  train ! 

Heber. 


PRAYER  AT  THE  POLE. 

A  little  group  of  worn-out  men, 

With  weary  limbs  and  shattered  forms, 

Whose  stalwart  wills  and  gallant  hearts 
Were  strong  to  face  dark  danger's  storms! 

And  one  amidst  them,  slight  of  frame, 

And  pale  from  strife  with  death  and  pain, 


PEAYER    AT    THE    POLE. 

A  hero's  soul,  whose  martyr  zeal 

Bore  nobly  suffering's  cankering  chain  ' 


They  met  within  the  solemn  aisles 
Of  ice-built  shrine,  a  temple  grand, 

Alone  upon  a  frozen  sea, 

The  saving  and  the  rescued  band, 

Mid  crystal  columns  reared  aloft 

Against  a  gray  and  cloud-draped  dome,- 


236  SONGS    OF    PKAISE. 

The  only  thing — that  shadowed  sky — 
In  all  the  waste  that  looked  like  home  ! 

They  stood  with  bowed,  uncovered  heads, 

With  reverent  mien  .and  moistened  eyes, 
Remembering  scenes  that  long  had  passed, 

Recalling  love's  most  tender  ties, 
As  softly  on  the  keen,  cold  air 

Their  leader's  voice  rose  calm  and  clear, 
And  raised,  like  prophet's  tone,  the  hope 

That  in  each  heart  had  found  a  bier. 

Few  words  of   humble,  grateful  praise, 

For  guidance,  life,  and  rest,  a  prayer, 
A  low  "Amen"  from  quivering  lips, 

Were  all  the  pomps  of  service  there  ! 
It  gave  them  strength  to  conquer  death  ; 

It  made  them  brave  to  dare  and  do ; 
It  kept  them  faithful  to  the  end, 

A  band  of  brothers,  tried  and  true  ! 

Then  bless  them,  souls  of   Christian  men 

O'er  all  the  earth  who  praise  and  pray ; 
And  bless  him  most  of  all,  their  chief, 

Who  first  in  duty  led  the  way, — 
Who  first  upon  those  regions  drear 

Of  frozen,  unknown  waters  spoke 
The  name  of   Christ,  whose  world-blest  sound 

The  solitude  of   silence  broke  ! 

Those  polar  mounts  of  ice  may  melt 
Beneath  the  Arctic's  summer  skies  ; 


ST.  A.GNES'    EVE. 

May  3peed  the  nations'  boarded  wealth, 
And    neath  the  tropica  ebb  and  ris< 

"ι  el  bear  abroad,  where'er  they  flow, 
That  baptism  of  the  holy   Name 

They  echoed  from  his  voice  who  died 
Al"1  lrlt   '  ι-  spread  his  fam 

S.VLLIE    BlUDiil 


ST.  AGNES'    EVE. 

I 'hep  on  the  convent-roof  the  snows 

Are  sparkling  to  the  moon  : 
-My  breath  to  heaven  like  vapor  g0< 

May   ray   soul    follow   soon  ! 
The  shadows  of  the  convenl  tov, 
ant  down   the   snowy  sward. 
Still  creeping  with  the  creeping  hours 

That   lead  me  to  my  Lord  : 
Make  Thou  my  spirit  pun•  and  clear 

As  are  the  frosty  skies, 
Or  this  first  Bnowdrop  of  the  year 

That  in   nay  bosom   lj 

As  these  white  robes  are  soiled  and  dark. 
To  yonder  shining  ground ; 

60 


238  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

As  this  pale  taper's  earthly  spark, 

To  yonder  argent  round ; 
So  shows  my  soul  before  the  Lamb, 

My  spirit  before  Thee ; 
So  in  mine  earthly  house  I  am, 

To  that  I  hope  to  be. 
Break  up  the  heavens.  Ο  Lord,  and  far, 

Through  all  yon  starlight  keen, 
Draw  me,  Thy  bride,  a  glittering  star, 

In  raiment  white  and  clean. 

He  lifts  me  to  the  golden  doors  ; 

The  flashes  come  and  go ; 
All  Heaven  bursts  her  starry  floors, 

And  strews  her  lights  below, 
And  deepens  on  and  up !    the  gates 

Roll  back,  and  far  within 
For  me  the  heavenly  Bridegroom  waits. 

To  make  me  pure  of  sin. 
The  sabbaths  of  Eternity, 

One  sabbath  deep  and  wide  ; 
A  light  upon  the  shining  sea, — 

The  Bridegroom  with  His  bride ! 

Tennyson. 


PRAISE. 


PRAISE. 

I 'raise  the  Lord  ! 
Praise  Him  from  the  heavens  on  high  I 
Praise  Him  in  the  lofty  sky  I 
Praise  Him,  all  ye  angels  bright  I 
Praise  Him,  all  His  hosts  of  light  ! 
Praise  Him,  sun  and  moon  afar  I 
Praise  Him,  every  radiant  star.' 

Praise  Him,  heavens  that  heavens  upl• 

^  aters,  higher  hung  in  air ; 

Let  them  praise  their  Maker's  name; 

For  He  called  them,  and  they  came: 

He  has  fixed  their  places  fa 

With  a  bound  which  ne'er  was  passed. 

Praise  the  Lord  from  earth  below. 
Monsters,  through  the  deep  that 
Fire,  and  cloud,  and  snow,  and  I 
And  the  obedient  stormy  gale 
Mountains,  and  the  highlands  all ; 
Fruitful  tree?,  and  cedars  tall  ■ 


240  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Beasts  that  field  or  forest  bore  ; 
Worms  that  creep,  and  birds  that  soar ; 
Kings,  and  men  of  humble  birth  ; 
Princes,  judges  of   the  earth  ; 
Youths  and  virgins,   flourishing 
In  the  beauty  of  your  spring ; 

You  who  bow  with  age's  weight, 
You  who  were  but  born  of  late  ; 
Heaven  and  earth  with  due  consent, 
Praise  His  name  most  excellent ; 
He  His  saints  to  Him  shall  rear, 
Israel,  to  the  Lord  so  dear. 
Praise  the  Lord  I 


THE   HOLY  SEPULCHRE. 

Then  hallowed  peace  renewed  her  wealthy  reign, 
Then  altars  smoked,  and  Sion  smiled  again. 
There  sculptured  gold  and  costly  gems  were  seen, 
And  all  the  bounties  of  the  British  queen  ; 
There  barbarous  kings  their  sandalled  nations  led, 
And  steel-clad  champions  bowed  the  crested  head. 
There,  when  her  fiery  race  the  desert  poured, 
And  pale  Byzantium  feared  Medina's  sword, 
TVhen  coward  Asia  shook  in  trembling  woe, 
And  bent  appalled  before  the  Bactrian  bow ; 
From  the  moist  regions  of  the  western  star 
The  wandering  hermit  waked- the  storm  of  war. 


THE    HOLY    SEPULCHni: 


24] 


Their  limbs  all  iron,  nn<l  ouls  all   fl 

A  countless  host,   ι  cross  warrior.- 


ei 


242  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

E'en  hoary  priests  the  sacred  combat  wage, 
And  clothe  in  steel  the  palsied  arm  of  age ; 
While  beardless  youths  and  tender  maids  assume 
The  weighty  morion  and  the  glancing  plume. 
In  sportive  pride  the  warrior  damsels  wield 
The  ponderous  falchion,  and  the  sun-like  shield, 
And  start  to  see  their  armor's  iron  gleam 
Dance  with  blue  lustre  in  Tabaria's  stream. 

The  blood-red  banner  floating  o'er  their  van, 
All  madly  blithe  the  mingled  myriads  ran  : 
Impatient  Death  beheld  his  destined  food, 
And  hovering  vultures  snuffed  the  scent  of  blood. 


Yet  still  destruction  sweeps  the  lonely  plain, 
And  heroes  lift  the  generous  'sword  in  vain. 
Still  o'er  her  sky  the  clouds  of  anger  roll, 
And  God's  revenge  hangs  heavy  on  her  soul. 
Yet  shall  she  rise, — but  not  by  war  restored, 
Not  built  in  murder, — planted  by  the  sword  : 
Yes,  Salem,  thou  shalt  rise  :    thy  Father's  aid 
Shall  heal  the  wound  His  chastening  hand  has  made; 
Shall  judge  the  proud  oppressor's  ruthless  sway, 
And  burst  his  brazen  bonds,  and  cast  his  cords  away. 
Then  on  your  tops  shall  deathless  verdure  spring, 
Break  forth,  ye  mountains,  and  ye  valleys,  sing! 
No  more  your  thirsty  rocks  shall  frown  forlorn.     ■ 
The  unbeliever's  jest,  the  heathen's  scorn, 


THE   LLOLY    SEPULCHRE. 

The  sultry  sands  shall  tenfold  harvest  yield, 
And  a  new  Eden  deck  the  thorny  field. 
E'en  now,  perchance,  wide-waving  o'er  the  land, 
That  mighty  angel  lifts  his  golden  wand. 
Courts  the  bright  vision  of  descending  pov. 
Tells  every  gate,  and  measures  every  tower  ; 
And  chides  the  tardy  seals  that  yet  detain 
Thy  Lion,  Judah,   from  His  destined  reij 

And  who  is  He?   the  vast,  the  awful  form, 
Girt  with  the  whirlwind,  sandalled  with  the  storm  .' 
A  western  cloud  around  His  limbs  is  spread, 
His  crown  a  rainbow,  and  a  sun  His  head. 
To  highest  Heaven  He  lifts  His  kingly  hand, 
And  treads  at  once  the  ocean  and  the  land ; 
And,  hark  !     His  voice  amid  the  thunder's  roar, 
His  dreadful  voice,  that  time  shall  be  no  mor 

Lo !    cherub  hands  the  golden  courts  prepare. 
Lo !    thrones  arise,  and  every  saint  is  there ; 
Earth's  utmost  bounds  confess  their  awful  swav. 
The  mountains  worship,  and  the  isles  obey 
Nor  sun  nor  moon  they  need, — nor  day.   nor  night ; — 
God  is  their  temple,  and  the  Lamb  their  lighi  : 
And  shall  not  Israel's  sons  exulting  come, 
Hail  the  glad  beam,  and  claim  their  ancient  hom 
On  David's  throne  shall  David's  ofifepring  reign, 

1  the  dry  bones  be  warm  with  life  again. 
Hark  !    white-robed  crowds  their  deep  hoeannae 
And  the  hoarse  flood  repeats  the  Bound  of  prait 


244  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Ten  thousand  harps  attune  the  mystic  song, 
Ten  thousand  thousand  saints  the  strain  prolong ; 
"  Worthy  the  Lamb  !    omnipotent  to  save, 
Who  died,  who  lives,  triumphant  o'er  the  grave  !" 

Heber. 


PARVUM  QUANDO  CERNO  DEUM. 

When  within  His  mother's  arms 

I  the  infant  God  behold, 
All  my  heart  the  vision  warms 
•  With  a  blessedness  untold. 

Leaps  He,  mother,  leaps  the  boy, 
Gazing  at  thy  holy  breast ; 

Kisses  with  a  smile  of  joy, 
Thousand  kisses,  fondly  prest ! 

As  upon  the  stainless  skies 

Peaceful  hangs  the  new-born  sun, 

So  upon  thy  hosom  lies, 

Mother  pure,  thy  Holy  One. 

Ah  !    how  lovely  that  repose  ! 

Mother  with  the  infant  fair, 
Twined  as  with  the  tender  rose 

Violet  and  lily  are. 


cm:  1st  risen.  245 

Many  a  silent  clasp  of  bliss, 

Many  a  look  of  smiling  love ; 
As  the  flowers  the  meadow  kiss, 

As  the  starry  eyes  above. 

Oh,  if  one  such  loving  dart, 

Falling  on  that  mother  mild, 
May  but  fall  upon  my  heart, 

Infant  Jesus,  Holy  Child ! 

Washburn. 


CHRIST   RISEN. 

Christ  rises;  lightning-stricken  at  the  sight, 

The  armed  soldiery,  who  at  the  tomb 

Kept  their  unholy  watch,  and  walked  the  gla 
Fall  back,  their  faces  hid  in  dread  affright, 
And  like  the  scared  shadows  of  the  night 

Hasten  away ;    as  when  the  aerial  dome 

The  rising  moon  doth  suddenly  illume, 
With  silent  intervention  calm  and  bright 

Just  rising,  and  the  clouds  departing  fly. 
And  flying  feebly  catch  her  silver  ray. 

E'en  so  those  heathen  thoughts  which  held  their  sway 

Vnd  ever  in  the  heart  were  hiding  nigh, 

r.2 


246  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

When  Christ  doth  visit  us,  before  His  way 
Shall  flee,  and  He  shall  fill  the  untroubled  sky. 

Christ  rises  !    not  alone,  with  Him  His  own 

Are  rising  from  their  graves,  and  burst  the  veil, 
And  look  again  on  this  their  earthly  jail, 

E'en  as  the  moon  doth  not  arise  alone, 

But  watchful  sentinels  attend  her  throne, 

Yet  love  that  they  themselves  should  fade  and  fail, 
In  her  surpassing  lustre  dim  and  pale. 

'Tis  thus  when  Christ  within  the  soul  made  known 
His  glorious  resurrection  shall  declare, 

His  love  and  light  shall  dissipate  the  gloom  ; 

Nor  shall  He  thither  unattended  come, 

But  all  the  graces  with  Him  make  their  home, 
When  He  the  darkness  of  the  soul  lays  bare, 
Fain  to  vouchsafe  His  gracious  presence  there. 


THE  REAPERS'  RETURN  HOME. 

Through  the  golden  tints  of  sunset, 
'Neath  the  glowing,  crimsoned  skies, 

With  each  smiling  face  uplifted, 

Where  their  work's  warm  flush  still  lies, 

All  the  reapers,  homeward  going, 
In  a  happy,  cheerful  throng, 


THE  ΒΕΑΡΕΒβ'  RETURN  HOME. 

With  gay  voices  sing  the  chorus 
Of  an  olden  harvest-eong. 


247 


They  have  mowed  the  w.-ivli. 

Of  the  ripe  and  I  ,in. 

Have  knelt  down  wh< 

Mid  the  aisle  of  •:η> 

And  have  gathered  up  t! 

Of  the  small  Peed  sown 


248  SONGS    OF    PEAISE. 

Then  with  glad  eyes  stood  rejoicing 
In  the  sure  and  garnered  store. 

Now  they  onward  walk  together 

Through  the  green  and  pleasant  field, 
And  each  worker, '  like  a  sceptre, 

His  sharp,  shining  scythe  doth  wield ; 
While  the  matrons  toss  their  infants 

To  the  measure  of  the  tune, 
Maidens,  wishing  o'er  their  shoulders, 

Watch  the  dim,  new-rising  moon. 

There  are  glances  shy  and  tender 

Under  manly,  sunburned  brows ; 
There'  are  blushings  at  bold  whispers, 

And  fresh  murmurs  of  old  vows  ; 
There  are  laughters  free  and  ringing, 

Plucking  flowers  by  the  way, 
And  fond  clinging  of  hands  parted 

By. their  labor  all  the  day. 

Age  and  youth  and  careless  childhood 

Share  the  music  of  the  strain, 
As  they  wend  through  clover  fragrance 

Towards  their  waiting  homes  again, 
Where  the  night  unto  the  weary 

Will  give  slumber  without  dreams, 
And  bring  silence  with  deep  shadows, 

Till  another  morning  beams. 

There  is  reaping,  there  is  gathering 
For  us  all  upon  the  earth, 


THE   RETURH    HOME.  219 

And  the  sheaves  we  show  at  harvest 
Are  what  prove  each  spirit's  worth  I 

Let  us  do  our  work  so  bravely 

That  our  hearts  shall  sing  with  praise 

In  the  glow  of  heaven's  glory 
At  the  closing  of  our  days  ! 

When  we  lie  down  for  our  resting 

ο 

In  our  last  home  dark  and  still, 
May  each  tried  soul  find  its  waking 
Where  Truth's  rays  the  mansions  fill! 

Sallie  Bridges. 


THE  RETURX   HOME. 

Safe  home,  safe  homo  in  port ! 

Rent  cordage,  shatter 
Torn  sails,   pro  short, 

And  only  not  a  wreck  : 
But,  oh,  the  joy  upon  the  shore 
To  tell  our  voyage-perils 

The  the  prize  secure  ! 

The  athlete  nearly  fell: 
Bare  all  he  could  endure, 

..1  bare  not  always  well: 

63 


250 


SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


But  he  may  smile  at  troubles  gone 
Who  sets  the  victor's  garland  on ! 


No  more  the  foe  can  harm  : 

No  more  of  leaguered  camp, 
And  cry  of   night-alarm, 
And  need  of  ready  lamp : 
And  yet  how  nearly  he  had  failed, — 
How  nearly  had  that  foe  prevailed ! 

The  lamb  is  in  the  fold 

In  perfect  safety  penned : 
The  lion  once  had  hold, 

And  thought  to  make  an  end. 
But  One  came  by  with  wounded  side, 
And  for  the  sheep  the  Shepherd  died. 

The  exile  is  at  home ! 

Oh,  nights  and  days  of  tears, 


THE   RETURN   HOME. 

Oh,  longings  not  to  roam, 
Oh,  sins,  and  doul 
What  d  now,  when  (so 

The  King  has  wiped  the 

Ο  happy,  happy  Brid 

Thy  widowed  hours  are  past, 
The  Bridegroom  at  thy  side, 
Thou  all  His  Own  at  la 
The  sorrow  thy  former  cup 

In  full  fruition  swallowed  up! 

St.  Joseph  of  the  Studium. 


Lord,  what  a  ch  ithin  u  .   hour 

What 

What  | 

We  :: 

We 

Stands  forth  in  sunny  outlh 

W"  kn  iel  how  w« 

Why,  i  ould  w  (jiis  mi 

Or  others,— that  w 

That  wo  are  < 

rih  A  we  should  (-  •  heartless  be, 

Anxious  or  troubled,  when  with  us  in  ι 

And  joy,  and 


252 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


_  *&*&■- 


ALTITUDO,  QUID  HIC  JACES? 


Height  of  heaven,  why  art  Thou  lying 

Cradled  in  a  stable  base? 
Maker  of   the  starry  torches, 

Hides  a  manger  cold  Thy  face? 


ALTITUDO,    QUID   HIC   JACES  ?  253 

Oh,  what  marvels  hast  Thou  lavished, 

Jesu,  upon  sinful  men  ! 
Exiles  from  the  bliss  of  Eden, 

Yet  Thy  heart  hath  loved  again. 

Might  divine  becometh  weakness; 

Infinite  a  babe  could  be ; 
In  a  mortal  womb  imprisoned, 

Born behold  Eternity  ! 

Oh,  what  marvels  hast  Thou  lavished, 

Jesu,  upon  sinful  men ! 
Exiles  from  the  bliss  of  Eden, 

Yet  Thy  heart  hath  loved  again. 

Thou  with  childish  lips  wast  clinging 

To  the  stainless  Virgin's  breast; 
Tear-drops  from  Thine  eye  were  springing 

Thou,  the  Joy  of   heaven  bl 
Oh,  what  marvels  hast  Thou  la\ 

Jesu,  upon  sinful  men  I 
Exiles  from  the  bliss  of  Eden, 

Yet  Thy  hi  ;  again. 

W'a 


254 


SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 


THE  PRODIGAL. 


Why  feedest  thou  on  husks  so  coarse  and  rude  ? 
I  could  not  be  content  with  angels'  food. 


How  earnest  thou  companion  to  the  swine? 

I  loathed  the  courts  of  heaven,  the  choir  divine. 


THE    PRODIGAL. 

"Who  bade  tlicc  crouch  in  hovel  dark  and  drei 
I  left  a  palace  wide  to  sojourn  hei 

Harsh  tyrant's  slave  who  made  thee,  once  to  frc 
A  father's  rule  too  heavy  seemed  to  me. 

What  sordid  rags  hang  round  thee  on  the  breeze? 
I  laid  immortal  robes  aside  for  these. 

An  exile  through  the  world  who  bade  thee  roam? 
None;    but  I  wearied  of  a  happy  home. 

Why  must  thou  dweller  in  a  desert  be? 
A  garden  seemed  not  fair  enough  to  me. 

Why  sue  a  beggar  at  the  mean  world's  door0 
To  live  on  God's  large  bounty  seemed  bo  poor. 

What  has  thy  forehead  so  to  earthward  brought  ? 
To  lift  it  higher  than  the  stare  I  thought. 

Trexch. 


256 


SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 


LUCIS  .LARGITOR  SPLENDIDE. 


MATIN    HYMN    OF    ST.   AMBEOSE,    FOURTH    CENTURY. 


All-glorious  Giver  of  the  light, 

In  Whose  unclouded  ray, 
After  the  shadows  of  the  night, 

Blooms  the  new-risen  day  ! 

Thou  art  the  world's  true  morning  star 

Not  he,  that  lesser  one, 
Twinkling  a  feeble  speck  afar, 

Pale  herald  of  the  sun. 


LUCI3  LAEGITOE  BPLENDILE.  257 

Ο  brighter  than  the  noontide  gleam; 

Day,  sun  full-orbed  Thou  art, 
Piercing  with  Thine  eternal  beam 

The  cloisters  of  the  heart. 

Builder  of  living  worlds,  draw  nigh! 

Smile  of  the  Father's  face! 
Our  happy  souls  wide  open  lie 

To  Thy  soft-coming  grace. 

Filled  with  Thy  Spirit,  may  we  keep 

God  s  presence  aye  within  ; 
Nor  through  these  hallowed  portals  creep 

The  stealthy  feet  of  sin. 

Amid  thick-coming  cares,  that  fill 

The  hours  of  daily  time, 
Our  law  shall  be  Thy  perfect  will, 

Our  conscience  clear  of  crime  ! 

With  virgin  shame  may  the  chaste  mind 

Our  earth-born  passions  chain, 
And  in  this  body  pure  enshrined 

Thy  Holy  Ghost  remain. 

Be  this  glad  hope  our  matin  boo 

Ihis,  Lord,  oui 
Ο  morning  light,  through  midnight  l< 

A\  atch  with  unsleeping 

Washburn 


258 


SOXGS    OF    PKAISE. 


NATURE  AND  GRACE. 

Theee  is  a  book,  who  runs  may  read, 
Which  heavenly  truth  imparts, 

And  all  the  lore  its  scholars  need, 
Pure  eyes  and  Christian  hearts. 


The  works  of   God  above,  below, 
Within  us,  and  around, 


NATUEE   A5D   GRACE.  259 

Arc  pages  in  that  book,  to  show 
How  God  Himself  is  found. 

The  glorious  sky  embracing  all 

Is  like  the  Maker's  love, 
Wherewith  encompassed,  great  and  small 

In  peace  and  order  move. 

The  Moon  above,  the  Church  below, 

A  wondrous  race  they  run ; 
But  all  their  radiance,  all  their  glow, 

Each  borrows  of  its  Sun. 

The  Saviour  lends  the  light  and  heat 

That  crowns  His  holy  hill ; 
The  saints,  like  stars,  around  His  seat 

Perform  their  courses  still. 

The  saints  above  are  stars  in  Heaven  : 

What  are  the  saints  on  earth? 
Like  trees  they  stand  whom  God  has  given, 

Our  Eden's  happy  birth. 

Faith  is  their  fixed  unswerving  root, 

Hope  their  unfading  flower, 
Fair  deeds  of   charity  their  fruit, 

The  glory  of   their  bower. 

The  dew  of  Heaven  is  like  Thy  grace, 
It  steals  in  silence  down ; 


260  SOXGS   OF   PRAISE. 

But  where  it  lights,  the  favored  place 
By  richest  fruits  is  known. 

One  Name  above  all  glorious  names, 
With  its  ten  thousand  tongues, 

The  everlasting  sea  proclaims, 
Echoing;  angelic  songs. 

The  raging  Fire,   the  roaring  Wind, 
Thy  boundless  power  display  : 

But  in  the  gentler  breeze  we  find 
Thy  Spirit's  viewless  way. 

Two  worlds  are  ours  :    'tis  only  Sin 

Forbids  us  to  descry 
The  mystic  heaven  and  earth  within, 

Plain  as  the  sea  and  sky. 

Thou,  who  hast  given  me  eyes  to  see 
And  love  this  sight  so  fair, 

Give  me  a  heart  to  find  out  Thee 
And  read  Thee  everywhere. 

Keble. 


RECORDARE   BANCTJE   CRLYIS. 


RECORDARE  SANCTiE  CRUCIS. 

BOffAVENTTTBA,    THIRTEENTH    CENTURY. 

Ponder  thou  the  cross  all-holy, 
Who  wilt  tread  the  pathway  lowly 

To  the  perfect  joy  above : 
Thou  the  holy  cross  aye  ponder, 
And,  with  an  uncloying  wonder, 

Drink  its  mysteries  of  love. 

When  thou  toilest,  when  thou  sleepest, 
When  thou  smilest,  when  thou  we< 

Sad  or  gladsome  if  thou  art. 
In  thy  coming,  in  thy  goii 
Whether  pain  or  solace  knowing, 

Keep  the  cross  within   thy  heart. 

In  the  cross,  «aid  burdens  aching, 
Heaviest  waves  above  thee  breaking, 
Thine  unending  comfort  find ; 


ee 


262  SONGS    OF    PRAISE. 

Though  midst  cruel  foes  thou  languish, 
Sweet  the  cross  in  every  anguish, 
Refuge  of  the  pious  mind. 

Cross,  of  Paradise  the  portal, 

Where  have  clung  the  souls  immortal, 

Victors  in  this  earthly  strife  ; 
Holy  cross,  the  whole  world's  healing ; 
By  it  is  God's  love  revealing 

Marvels  of  eternal  life. 

Cross  of  Christ,  the  soul's  well  being, 
Light  unshadowed  for  our  seeing, 

For  the  heart  its  sweetest  good ; 
Cross,  the  life  all  saints  indwelling, 
Storehouse  of  all  gifts  excelling, 

Beauty  and  beatitude. 

Cross,  the  glass  of  brave  endeavor ; 
Leader  of   our  triumph  ever ; 

Hope  the  faithful  to  inspire ; 
Badge  of  the  elect  of  heaven  ; 
Succor  in  our  trial  given ; 

Fulness  of  the  soul's  desire. 

Cross,  the  tree  in  beauty  growing, 
Hallowed  by  Christ's  life-blood  flowing, 

Hanging  with  full-ripened  load ; 
Bounty  for  all  spirits  bearing, 
An  immortal  banquet  sharing 

With  the  blessed  sons  of  God. 


ALL   ANGELS.  263 

Crucified,  oh,  make  mo  stroni 
Wink•  ι  is  spared  me  Iod 

Still  to  know  Thy  suffering; 
With  Thee  wounded,  with  Thee  dying. 
To  that  Form  before  me  lyii. 

On  the  holy  cross   I  cliii'j. 

W.V.  IIIiURN. 


ALL  ANGEU3. 

THOMAS    A  KEMPIS,    FOURTEENTH    CENTURY. 

Eveb  etand  the  angel  throng, 
Lauding  God  in  hoi  ν  song: 
zing  on  their  glorious  Kii 
With  the  heart,  the  voice  they  sir 
Harp-notes  flinging,  timbrels  ringing 
Now  on  golden  plumes  i; 
Climbing  on   the  heavenly  stair: 
Sweet  bells  blending,   white-robed  1 
Near  the  highest  Trinity ; 
Holy,  Holy,  Holy,   eryir 
Flieth  sorrow,  ceaseth  eighing, 
In  that  city  of  the  b] 


261  SONGS   OF    PRAISE. 

Mingled  arc  all  happy  voices, 
One  that  in  their  God  rejoices ; 
Love  in  every  mind  is  burning, 
In  pure  vision  upward  turning 

To  the  Eternal  One,  the  Blessed  Trine. 
All  the  glowing  seraphim 
With  a  heart  of  fire  adore  Him  ; 
All  the  keen-eyed  cherubim 
Veil  their  faces  low  before  Him  : 

Awed  the  Thrones  behold  the  Majesty  divine. 

Oh,  how  wonderful  that  region  ! 
Oh,  how  beautiful  that  legion  ! 
Men  with  angels  ever  bright ! 
Shining  city,  aye  in  thee 
Reigneth  full  tranquillit}*. — 
In  thy  borders  peace  and  light. 
Dwellers  of   this  city  fair 
Garments  white  of  chasteness  wear ; 
In  one  household  of   sweet  love, 
One  unbroken  circle  move. 
Naught  of  darkness,  naught  of  care, 
Grief,  temptation,  haunteth  there  : 
Free  from  sickness,  ever  blest, 
Theirs  of  every  good  the  best. 

Washburn. 


THE    END. 


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